


The Winding Path

by NyxEtoile, OlivesAwl



Series: Arrangements [2]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Best Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 12:06:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 35,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14355108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlivesAwl/pseuds/OlivesAwl
Summary: “His given name is Mandla. He’s the younger brother of the Chief of the Jabari Tribe.”It took a genuinely super human amount of restraint not to laugh out loud. It was a very near thing. "I do remember meeting him a few times," Shuri said in what she hoped was a neutral tone.“It was M’Baku’s idea,” her brother said. “He thought it might help bring more unity between our people.”"Well, as long as I'm politically useful, how can I say no?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And here is Shuri's story, as she's the best character to come out of the MCU in a long time. It is set in the same universe as _The Long Path_ but most of the action happens separately.

The end of a battle was really anticlimactic. Shuri supposed that was true by definition, but still, she'd always pictured it different. More glory and honor and less confusion and exhaustion.

The Doras that could walk rounded up the members of the Border tribe that could walk and set up a barrier shield to keep them in place. Using her Kimoyo bracelet, Shuri deployed her doctor bots for all the people who couldn't walk. The 'bots were little drone hospitals, about the size of a large book, equipped with basic medication and nanites that could handle anything by mortal wounds. There'd be a handful that would need a hospital, and perhaps a few that would need a morgue, given the way the rhinos were tearing through the crowd, but she could at least get some immediate triage done.

Shuri personally stood next to Nakia to make sure she let a 'bot look at her leg.

“I’ve done worse to myself in places where all I had to treat it with was vodka and duct tape,” Nakia told her. Shuri couldn’t tell if that was a protest or a brag. Maybe both. 

"Well, I don't have vodka or duct tape so you'll have to make do with tiny robots.”

Nakia studied her a moment while the bot closed the wounds on her leg—which, Shuri thought, would have been fatal if they’d been much deeper. “You okay? When I was your age I think I would have been screaming and hiding behind a rock.”

"I'm all right," she said immediately, though it was probably a lie. "I might not be in a couple of hours," she conceded. "But for now I have work to do.”

“Shuri!” She turned to see her brother skidding down the hillside towards them. His comms had fritzed out while they were fighting down in the mine and she hadn’t been sure he’d survived until right then. 

"Brother!" Nakia said something, but Shuri didn't hear her, sprinting across the field to meet him, throwing herself at him. 

He lifted her up off her feet and nearly squeezed the wind out of her. Then he set her down and began inspecting her for wounds. “Are you all right? Are you hurt at all? Why are you out here fighting?” He didn’t pause long enough between any of those questions for her to answer.

Ignoring him, she tried to get a good look at his suit. "Are _you_ all right? Where's Killmonger? What the hell happened down there? Did you hurt my train?”

“I’m fine, he’s dead, I’ll tell you later and I have no idea.” He looked around, and then she could see his shoulders relax. She turned her head to see Nakia waving at him. Then he said, sounding a little awed. “The Jabari are here.”

"Yes." She glanced over, smiling to see some of their warriors crouched by the fallen Dora and Border tribesmen, holding their hands or helping them to their feet. "They arrived when all hope seemed lost. Like in a story.”

“Bast smiles upon us.” He squinted at something off to the left, and when Shuri followed his gaze she could Okoye yelling at W’Kabi—who was sitting on the ground—gesturing with her spear. “I will have to deal with him eventually, but for now I think she’s got that handled.”

"She got him to surrender," Shuri told him. "Stepped in front of his rhino.”

That made T’Challa smile. “Her spine is made from vibranium.” He looked down at Shuri. “As, apparently, is yours.”

She grinned at him. "I learned from the best.”

He grinned back, and then his eyes drifted over her shoulder again. She could tell by the expression on his face he was looking at Nakia again. Shuri took a step back to give them some space. If this were a story, or perhaps an American movie, they would run to each other and kiss. At least hug. Something. Not just stand there and stare longingly at each other. 

She hoped if she were ever in love with someone, she wasn’t that stupid about it. But all she said was, “I have work to do.”

T'Challa seemed to shake himself a bit before looking back to her. "Of course. I will speak with you later."

To make him smile, she gave him a little bow, then ran off to check one of the bots that was giving her an error warning. She discovered why when she got there—one of the Jabari was quite literally staked to the ground with a spear in their side. The bot couldn’t close a wound that still had a weapon in it, but also certainly couldn’t pull it out. Even if she wanted to make them heavy/strong enough to do so, weapon removal required human judgement. Taking it out could be worse.

She thought it was a woman, and it wasn’t until she knelt down that she realized the person was a boy, her age or maybe younger. He’d clearly been crying, but made an effort to sound nonchalant when he said, “It looks worse than it is.”

Having grown up with teenaged T'Challa, she was more than capable of coddling a boy's ego. She just chose not to in the case of her brother. "Of course," she said, equally nonchalant. "Let me just scan to see if we can take it out here, or try to get you inside." Nudging the bot, she swiftly changed its program to give her a hologram of the boy's side.

The spear seemed to have missed any major blood vessels, but was close enough to his liver she didn't want to risk moving it without immediate attention available. Bending down till she was flat with the ground, she peered at the spear shaft, then slid a hand beneath him to find the button and latch that would detach the head. 

He made a noise of pain, and then breathed rapidly for a moment. “We don’t use much vibranium,” he said. “It’s amazing what you can do with it."

"Thank you." She twisted one of her beads so a stretcher would come over. "Do you have anyone you trust who could help lift you?" She figured he might prefer letting friends touch him to a couple of random Dora she flagged down.

“My brother. But he’ll be mad, I wasn’t supposed to come. But I kinda egged him into this in the first place. Seemed cowardly to sit at home with my grandmother.”

"Sounds like our brothers would get along." The stretcher arrived and she waved over a couple of warriors to come help her. "I want to get you to the hospital before we remove the spear. You'll be right as rain soon enough.”

“Are you a doctor?” he asked as they lifted him up.

"Not really. But I invented all the machines that fix people. So. . ." She shrugged. "I kind of oversee stuff.”

“Are there doctors at the hospital?”

She smiled and patted his shoulder. "There are. I promise. It'll be okay.”

“For a minute I was worried that all of Wakanda’s medical care was provided by a teenager and a fleet of robots.” He tapped the side of the stretcher. “You should put lifts on these things, you could load people without having to flag down help.”

"This is the first time I've used them for mass deployment. I'm spotting a lot of improvements to make." She grinned at him. "I will add that to the list.”

Transports from the city hospitals had finally made it up the mountain, and she guided his stretcher towards one. Her bracelet was chiming for her attention again.

She glanced down at it. "Sorry, I have to go. They'll take good care of you at the hospital. Do you want me to find your brother so he knows where you are?”

“No, absolutely not. I don’t want him to know I was here.”

Shuri couldn't help but think this would just end up in a worried brother when he got back to the mountains and found him gone, but she didn't say it. Maybe the Jabari didn't keep tabs on their siblings like certain brothers she knew. "All right. My comfort to you and hope for swift your recovery." She made an 'X' with her arms before handing him off to the men loading the transport.

She reorganized her bots to send up flags for the transports, on the people—and one rhinoceros—that were too injured to be treated in the field. Everything looked stable, so she went in search of T’Challa. He was standing up near the mine entrance talking to M’Baku. She had been a little afraid once the crisis was over they’d revert to punching each other.

Figuring if fisticuffs were imminent she might defuse them or be a help, she hiked over to them, waving when her brother spotted her. "Everything is under control," she told him, then saluted M'Baku. "Thank you for your assistance, your highness." And her mother said she didn't know diplomacy.

He inclined his head towards her, and then smirked at T’Challa. “I still can’t believe you let your kid sister fight in this battle.”

Shuri prickled but her brother just smiled. "I think you will find I do not _let_ the princess do anything. I am surprised my mother didn't sneak down here as well.”

“She is safe in the mountains, I promise you. My younger brother wanted to come, too. But he’s a child with no place on a battlefield.”

Before either of them could reply, Shuri spotted Everett Ross staggering out of the building. She smacked T'Challa's arm. "Look. The white boy lives.”

“That was the craziest video game I’ve ever played.”

"You like that, you should see the _actual_ video games we play."

"I'll settle for a hover bike.”

T’Challa reached out and clapped his arm. “Thanks for the help. As soon as we get this mess cleaned up we’ll see about getting you home.”

Ross's brows lifted. "I'm being allowed to leave?"

"Aw, I wanted to keep him as a pet," Shuri pouted.

“I do not wish to keep you here as a prisoner,” T’Challa said. He glared at Shuri. “Or a pet.” He looked at M’Baku. “Or a snack.”

M’Baku laughed. “They told you about that? Come on, admit that’s funny!”

T'Challa chuckled and shook his head. "I look forward to more of your humor at our council meetings.”

“I still have decided if I’m going to accept that or not. You really want someone sitting in there who challenged you for your throne?” 

"I want people of honor on my council, who are not afraid to tell me what they think, especially when they disagree with me. I think that describes you very well.”

“Well, I can definitely promise to disagree with you.”

"Good."

Shuri squinted at the darkening sky. "I'll get more lights out here. Then go check on my lab." And get out of this armor. "Unless you need anything?" she asked T’Challa.

“No, I’m all right, thank you. Oh—did any of the Jabari get taken to the hospital?”

She nodded. "I know of at least one that I helped, and I believe I saw a couple more on the transports. I can get you numbers once I get back to the lab.”

“Let me know where they are so I can make arrangements to take them home,” M’Baku said. He paused. “When they are well enough, obviously.”

Shuri nodded again. "I'll be in touch once I have a head count and prognoses." She nudged Ross. "Come agent. You can help me dig our spot lights out of my storage closet. Maybe you'll find a hover bike.”

He followed her without complaint. “So. . .am I your assistant now?”

"It's better then pet, isn't it?" she asked with a grin.

Ross moved his head side to side. “Yeah, probably.”

She clapped him on the back. "Come on. Give me a hand and then we can find you somewhere to sleep.”

He sighed. “Don’t suppose you have any alcoholic beverages in your little utopia?”

Tucking an arm through his she said, "I like you Agent Ross. So I am going to introduce you to the mysteries of Wakandan liquor.”

They got the spotlights set up, and then she discovered white people couldn’t hold their booze, because Ross passed out three drinks in. T’Challa was going to make a face at her. Well, at least the dude would sleep well. 

It was very nice to sleep in her own bed that night. Or at least. . . try to sleep. The not-okay she’d told Nakia about arrived in the middle of the night. Nightmares woke her a couple hours before dawn and she couldn't get back to sleep, no matter what she tried. After reading, pacing, and a hot shower, she gave up and headed down to her lab. It was a bit of a mess, after getting rifled through by Killmonger and shot up. Seeing it like that was oddly violating, but she tried to tell herself that reorganizing it would be a good distraction.

She heard footsteps behind her, which gave her a good jump scare. She whirled around saw her mother standing there. “I knew you’d be down here.”

There was nothing better after a nightmare than seeing your mother. Shuri crossed the room and hugged her, tucking her face into her mother's shoulder to take a deep breath of her scent. "It's good to see you, Mama.”

“I couldn’t wait any longer up there. I had to know my babies were safe.”

"I am safe. So is T'Challa." Shuri sighed. "I had a nightmare.”

Mama stroked her hair. “I think that’s normal. I’ve had nightmares since your father died.”

This hadn't been the same kind of dream. She'd fought and hurt people. Maybe killed them. And had come very close to dying herself. That was going to take time to sort out. But she didn't want to burden her mother with that. Not now at least. For now, a hug was enough.

“How about I make you some breakfast and we watch the sunrise?”

Shuri smiled and squeezed her tight. "I'd like that.”

“I know how smart you are and I know all the things you do and are capable of. But you are still my baby girl.”

"Tonight, I'm totally okay with that.”

Mama pulled her towards the door. “Good. Come let me fuss over you.”

*

About the time he got speared to the ground, Mandla had come to deeply regret his decision to join the battle. He lay there for a while, wondering if he would bleed to death or get killed by his brother. Probably was just a matter of whichever came first.

Then the prettiest girl he’d ever seen appeared at his side and tried to fix him. Which meant he had to pretend his side didn’t hurt like a motherfucker. He did not want to add swearing and/or screaming in front of the Princess of Wakanda to his list of sins for the day.

Between her and whatever painkiller he was finally given, he reconsidered maybe this hadn’t been so bad.

The hospital took the spear out, cleaned and taped up both sides of his wound, and told him they would do tissue regeneration in the morning. He knew his brother didn’t like it, but he really needed to get on some of this medical tech they had down here.

Then the nurse commented, “I believe your Chief is making the rounds to visit wounded soldiers this evening.”

And now he had to figure out how to sneak out of a hospital.

He listened to the coming and goings of the nurses in the hallway. When none came in for a few minutes, he carefully eased out of bed and waited to see how bad it made the wound hurt. To his relief the pain killer was doing its job so he moved to the door to see if the coast was clear. He spotted his brother down the hall at the nurses station and ducked back. He counted to fifty, praying to Hanuman that M'Baku would go in another room first, then checked the hall again.

It was empty, so he made a beeline for the door. He tried to trace back the way he’d come in, through a maze of corridors. When he finally found exterior doors, they led him out into the street, in the dead middle of a city he’d never been in before. 

This had been a fantastic idea.

Grateful the hospital had dressed him in a tunic and pants rather than some flimsy gown, he took a moment to get his bearings, figured out which way was east, and started walking that way. Observation gave him an idea of how the buses ran and he managed to catch one, then transfer to another to get him closer to the edge of town. From there, at least, he could just barely see the tip of the mountain Gorilla City sat on. It was going to take all damn night to walk there.

He was woefully underdressed for the weather once he was at elevation. The cold itself didn’t bother him, nor the mountain itself. His people were some of the best mountain climbers in the world. But they didn’t usually have to do it with a screaming wound in his side. He was back into deep, deep regret when he finally stumbled into his house.

It was only when he saw the look of horror on his grandmother’s face that he realized what he must look like at this point. Didn’t really matter, since he took two steps in and passed out.

He woke up an undetermined amount of time later, in his own bed, which had been pulled out from the wall, so Gramma could reach his wound. She was smearing salve on it and humming a chant to the ancestors. When she saw he was awake, she smiled. "And I used to think you were my smart grandson.”

Mandla winced. “Apparently not.”

"Pity you left in a pique after fighting with your brother and managed to fall on a branch," she said mildly, taping his side up. "But I'm glad you made it home safe.”

He looked at her, surprised. He’d been sure she’d tell his brother about his foolishness. “Thank you.”

"Your father would have done the exact same thing," she told him. "Whether that brings your pride or shame is up to you.”

“Sneaking off to war or throwing a tantrum in a tree?”

"More the first than the second. I thought you'd prefer being mocked for the tree than punished for the war.”

“No, no, I’m good with the cover story, thanks.”

"Anytime, my little one." She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Get some rest, I'll bring you some food in a little bit. The Panther King is having a meeting in two days and your brother is thinking of bringing you with him.”

“With a hole in my side?”

"It's healing well. Two more days?" She lifted her hands, palms towards the ceiling. "Ancestors willing you'll be much better." With a wink, she added, "Those lowlanders know a few things.”

“You should see some of their tech, Gramma. It’s _amazing_.”

"I hope I get a chance. The Panther King has offered your brother a seat on his council. This may be the start of a new age for the tribes.”

“We’re probably better off banding together. Look what fighting amongst ourselves got us.” He gestured at his wound.

"It's true. The world is changing. Catching up to us. It's time to change as well." She smiled brightly. "I never thought I'd live to see it.”

“You say that about everything.”

"Doesn't make it less true.”

“I’ll give you that. Any way I can have that food you mentioned? It was a long walk.”

She patted his shoulder and stood slowly. "I'll go get it.”

He sighed and closed his eyes. His side hurt. As did his legs. Most things hurt, actually. “Thank, Gramma.”

"Any time, my little one.”

He was up and feeling better by dinner, where he got to sit around and listen to M’Baku and his friends tell stories and brag about the battle they had so clearly saved. There was plenty of ribbing directed at Mandla about all that he missed.

It was kind of a surreal evening.


	2. Chapter 2

Mandla slept most of the next day, woken by Gramma changing his bandages and forcing food down his throat. By the next morning his wound was sore and a little itchy, but no longer felt like he was being torn apart as he walked. And so he accompanied his brother down the mountain to meet with the other tribes.

“You really gonna go sit on his council?” he asked M’Baku.

He shrugged. "I'll probably send someone else. They talk a lot. I bore easily.”

“It’s still a big deal.”

M'Baku nodded, looking down the path a moment. "It is possible to honor tradition and still move forward. If T'Challa is willing to extend the hand then I need to be willing to grasp it.”

“I think it’ll be fun to join the rest of the country. Learn about them, teach them about us.” 

"I suppose some of their technology would be useful," he said grudgingly.

“I hear their medical stuff is impressive.”

"It is. I went to their hospital to see our injured warriors. Some would have died without the lowlanders' help.”

Mandla smiled. “Told you it’d be worth it to help them.”

"Yes, yes, you're very smart. When not tree climbing.”

He hated lying, but now was not the time to confess this particular sin. “I never claimed to be coordinated.”

M'Baku slapped him on the back in that way he had that was clearly meant to be affectionate, and they walked in silence for a while. The palace came into view a good twenty minutes before they reached it, which was probably why T'Challa and a couple of Dora had time to meet them at the palace entrance. 

There was a bit of greeting and introduction, and then they all went inside, where the rest of the royal family waited. Including the King’s younger sister, who was now staring at Mandla with her mouth open. That wasn’t good. He gave her a head shake and a significant look at his brother. The open mouth turned into an unfairly pretty smile and a wink.

He felt better, but he still made it a point to go talk to her once the adults busied themselves with talking about adult things.

"You know he made fun of T'Challa for 'letting' me fight," she said without any preamble. "If only I had known.”

He looked over his shoulder, seeing who was in earshot. “Can just pretend it didn’t happen?”

"I suppose. What's in it for me?”

“I did not come prepared for hostage negotiations.”

She grinned widely. "Your brother won't hear anything from me.”

“I owe you. On. . . several levels.”

"I'm glad to see you're up and walking.”

“My Gramma took care of me.” That made him sound like he was 5 years old. “Not that I couldn’t, you know, take care of myself or anything.”

"Of course," she said easily. "Sometimes it's nice to have help though.”

“The bandages were a little awkward to reach.”

"I can see that." She crossed her arms. "Were you the one who snuck out of the hospital without a by-your-leave?”

“How do you know about that?”

"I was the liaison with the hospital, gave the final casualty numbers to our brothers. They let me know one of the Jabari had left. Your brother seemed to think this was perfectly normal and not to worry about it.”

“Well, I couldn’t let him find me,” he said defensively.

She inclined her head sympathetically, which was completely belied by the grin on her face. "Will he be joining the council?”

“Looks like it. I think that’s the point of this party. . .thing we’re at right now.”

Nodding, she glanced around the room. "T'Challa wants things to change. For the better, I think. It'll be interesting to see how everyone takes to it.”

“I envy how much your brother lets you do. Mine treats me like a kid.”

"I have my mother for that," she assured him.

“My parents died a couple years back.” Grief stabbed him, like it always did. “They got caught in an avalanche.”

She touched his arm. "My comfort to you.”

“Same to you,” he said quietly. Her father’s death had been a whole hell of a lot more recent.

With a smile of thanks, she sighed, "It would be nice if things could be boring for a little while.”

“I will say a prayer for boredom.”

"Thank you. I need at least a week to get my lab back in order.”

He grinned at her. “I’ll pray for a whole month.”

"Shuri!" her brother called from the other side of the room.

She made a face. "I better go mingle with someone else.”

“Right, right.” He cleared his throat. “It was really nice to see you, your highness.”

"You too. . ." She frowned. "I don't know your name. M'Baku just called you brother.”

“Mandla.” He bowed. 

"A pleasure to meet you," she replied, saluting before heading over to her brother.

*

_Five Later, Oakland, CA_

"Miss Shuri? Can you come look at this?"

That was a sentence with an infinite number of possibilities. Was she going over to see a new project? A dead mouse? The beginnings of a practical joke gone horrible awry?

It was Ty's voice, so the last one was unlikely. He was one of her less mischievous kids. So she slipped out of her office and headed over to the table he was working at. "What do you have?"

"I can't get this to work. I've reconfigured it twice but there's still something making it glitch out."

It was probably something simple she could find and fix quickly, but kids learned better when they figured it out themselves. “Have you had lunch yet?” He shook his head. “Food helps your brain work.”

He squinted suspiciously. "Really?"

"Yep. And getting out of the lab and doing something else might get your brain to relax and figure out the problem." She pulled out her wallet and handed him a couple of tens. "Head down to the Lunch Box and get me a number thirty eight. No mustard.”

“What do you have against mustard?”

"It's tangy in a way that is wrong and unclean.”

Ty shook his head. “38. Be right back.”

She watched him go, then headed back to her office. There were a few other kids working on a robotics club project at the other end of the room, but they were adamant they didn't need any help. She thought most of them were doing it mostly for novelty and some extra school credit. Ty had a real gift, as did a few other kids that frequented the outreach center. She'd spent the last couple months trying to convince her brother to let her bring them to Wakanda for an internship.

Wakanda had been doing a lot of wonderful things as far as reaching out to the world. Letting the world into Wakanda. . . that was a little different. She could understand her brother’s POV. She just didn’t agree with it.

Besides, she wasn't suggesting they open the borders and start a tourism campaign. A carefully chosen group of promising scientists and inventors was a good first step. They'd get an opportunity to tinker with vibranium first hand, and become good will ambassadors for the rest of the world.

She needed to get Nakia on her side. He couldn't resist her. 

It was midnight in Wakanda, but lately she’d been able to talk to her during daytime in California. Shuri’s baby niece was confused about what continent she lived on. Shuri’s bracelet indicated that Nakia’s was still online, and sure enough her face popped right up. “Have you called to save me from my boredom while I walk in circles?”

"Not specifically, but I'm happy to help. The little kitten still won't let you sleep in peace?”

Nakia lifted her hand so Shuri could see the baby wrapped to her back in a kanga. “Well she sleeps great.”

But only if she was moving. Both her brother and sister-in-law had complained to Shuri about it. Frequently. "I'm working on a new kind of cradle. One that hovers and will mimic your walking. We'll get you a good night's sleep yet.”

“This. This is why I love you. And miss you.”

"I miss you too," she said sincerely. "But I have a way to guarantee I come back this summer.”

Nakia’s eyebrows went up. “You have my attention.”

"Help me convince my brother to host some interns from the program here.”

“In Wakanda?”

"No, in Kansas. Of course, Wakanda.”

“You said ‘here’ and you’re in California and I have been awake for 22 hours.”

"My heart is always in Wakanda," Shuri said touching her chest dramatically. "I thought he'd have told you about it. I've been bugging him on and off for weeks.”

“He was complaining a week or two ago that you wanted to give tours to Americans or something. It sounded crazy so I didn’t take it seriously.”

Shuri sighed. "That's probably translated through sleep deprivation." She really needed to finish that cradle.

“I think it’s a good idea. Though, admittedly, T’Challa and I have different opinions of the status of the border.”

"Yeah, but you're more likely to sway him than I am.”

Nakia chuckled. “Depends on the topic, but I’ll give it a swing.”

"Thank you, sister.”

Shuri was inordinately pleased when her brother called her that night, during what was his morning. He didn’t even say hello, his face just popped up and he said, “Define ‘intern’.”

She was sorely tempted to look up the actual dictionary definition and put it on the screen, but resisted. "A group of teens who can come and spend a few weeks brainstorming in my lab without the pressures and distractions of home.”

“You can’t have a retreat somewhere else?”

"Other places don't have my lab.”

“How old are they? Would we need to bring their parents?”

"Sixteen and up and no, teenagers do school trips all the time without parental supervision. I'll get them to sign releases.”

She could see T’Challa considering this. He looked really tired, and she wondered if finishing and sending the cradle as a bribe would help. Then he said, “I have two conditions.”

"And those would be?”

“One, no white people. I know that’s illegal over there and I don’t care how you finagle it, but that’s my line. Two, come do some ceremonial things while you’re here.” 

The majority of her older kids were black or latinx, so odds were it would have worked out that way anyway. The second thing however. . . "That's it? Just 'some ceremonial things?' Do you have something planned or are you going to wing it?”

“I haven’t thought that far yet. Mother has just been asking me about it, and right now I have leverage.” He grinned at her.

She sighed deeply. "Fine. Agreed.”

“Agreed,” he replied.

She grinned widely. "Thank you, brother.”

“You’d just heckle me until I cooperated, anyway.” He sounded resigned and long-suffering about this.

"And I'd get your wife to help me," she confirmed perkily.

“Yes, I noticed that part, thank you. I hope it wasn’t your idea for her to ask me about it topless.” 

Shuri waved her hands, making his image flicker. "I don't want to know that.”

“That’s why I told you.” He was still her brother.

"I'm hanging up now.”

“Goodnight,” he called cheerfully.

"Night." She disconnected the call and shook her head, grinning to herself.

Now she had a summer intern program to set up. Couldn’t be that hard, right?

Three and a half months later, as she did her last of several head counts before taking off, Shuri regretted every decision she had ever made in her life. She was the smartest person on the planet, she really should have known better.

She'd gotten over a hundred applications, all with essays she had to read. Paring it down to a manageable number had taken weeks. Then she'd had to do interviews with kids and their parents to make sure they understood what it meant - getting a passport, getting up to date on immunizations, the half dozen release forms their lawyers had drawn up for her. That had cleared out ten people alone - including one woman who tried to lecture her about the conspiracy behind immunizations. Shuri had come very, _very_ close to hitting her with a sonic cannon and adopting her poor daughter as her own. 

Still, it had all been worth it. She was on her way to Wakanda with seven kids, four boys and three girls. Ty was there, as were two girls, Leeanne and Gracie, who were very close to a breakthrough on an energy source that would give Stark's reactors a run for their money, plus a boy named Darren she'd only heard say maybe a dozen words, but whose essay had been heartbreaking. She hoped T'Challa got over himself enough to spend some time with them.

Shuri had a month of activities planned, some lab assistants who had offered to help her wrangle, and accommodations for them all. She had this.

The decent into Wakanda never got old, flying over the fields and into the glittering city. The kids pressed to the windows in awe. Shuri’s family met the plane, baby and all.

Her desire to be cool in front of her kids lasted about ten seconds. Then she ran over to give her brother a big hug and snuggle her niece.

Kata shrieked happily at patted Shuri’s cheek, then grabbed one of her braids and stuffed it in her mouth. She saw the little one on video all the time, but it was entirely different to hold her. She was getting so big.

"I will spoil you ridiculously later," she promised before setting her on a hip and turning back to the interns.  
They stepped forward in unison and crossed their arms over their chests, bowing to T'Challa, just like she'd shown them. "Your Highness," they chorused.

“Welcome to Wakanda,” he said. “I hope you enjoy your time with us.”

"Thank you, sir," Ty replied. "We're very excited to be here.”

“We hope you’ll all join us for dinner this evening,” Nakia said.

They all stared, so Shuri stepped in. "That would be great." She handed Kata back to Nakia. "For now, I'm going to take them to get settled in their rooms.”

“Come by when you’re done?” Nakia asked her.

"Of course. We have catching up to do.”

It took her a while to get the kids settled. They’d all been awake like 24 hours but were still wound up with excitement. Shuri was just as tired, but she took the long slow walk back. It was so good to be home.

She kind of wanted to go peek in her lab, but she'd just get sucked into a project and she really needed to sleep. So she detoured to the royal quarters and knocked on T'Challa and Nakia's door.

Her brother opened the door. “Hi, shh, she’s putting the baby down.”

"Sorry," she whispered. "I can come back, but I'm probably going to fall asleep as soon as I reach my room.”

“No, no, come in. Nakia’s in the bedroom with her. Your cradle has been magic. I just didn’t want you to be loud.”

She followed him into the living room of their suite. "It's good to know if I run out of weapon and armor ideas I can get into baby equipment.”

“People love it when you make fun things.”

"Everything thing I make is fun.”

He chuckled. “Yes, but most of that I don’t exactly want to share.”

"Of course not." She sank into the plush couch that dominated the room. "How have you been, brother?”

“Good,” he replied. “And very busy. Isolation was less complicated.”

She laughed. "Tell me about it. I'm hoping to use this as a vacation.”

“We could all of us go up to the lake house for a week or two. Mother would love that.”

"I probably shouldn't abandon my kids for that long." T'Challa made the closest thing to a pouty face she'd ever seen. Shuri sighed. "Maybe for a week. Once they're settled.”

“There are a couple of other things I wanted to discuss with you, but they can wait until you’ve settled.”

Something about his tone made her vaguely suspicious. But she was tired and her brother had never successfully kept a secret from her, so she let it slide. "I'll see you at supper then?”

The bedroom door opened just then, and Nakia came out. “She sleeps.”

"Yay." Shuri held her arms out to hug her sister-in-law. "You look better rested.”

“Only because you are the greatest inventor that ever lived.”

"That's true, I am.”

Nakia looked over at T’Challa. “Did you talk to her?”

He smiled brightly. "Yes, she'll be coming to the lake house with us after settling the interns in."

Nakia's brow furrowed and Shuri's suspicions cranked up. "What's going on?”

T’Challa sighed. “I was going to let you rest.”

"Too late now," Shuri said, crossing her arms. "What's happening? Is something wrong? Is it Mama?”

Clearly understanding he wasn’t going to be able to put this off, her brother leaned back in his chair. “The more traditional members of the council have been pestering me about how you’re getting well past the age for an Arrangement.”

Panic drained from her, replaced by irritation. "Seriously? We're still doing that?”

“Times of change make people instinctively cling to traditions,” Nakia said. “Particularly old people.”

"It worked out well for me," T'Challa offered.  
Shuri squinted at him. "Did you agree to the internship to get me out here and set me up with someone?”

“I told you there were some ceremonial things as part of my conditions,” he said. Nakia punched him in the arm. “But no, I had not thought of this particularly, at that moment.”

That mollified her enough to ask, "Do I know him?”

“I believe you’ve met him a time or two at formal ceremonial occasions.”

"Does he have a _name_?”

“His given name is Mandla. He’s the younger brother of the Chief of the Jabari Tribe.”

It took a genuinely super human amount of restraint not to laugh out loud. It was a very near thing. "I do remember meeting him a few times," she said in what she hoped was a neutral tone.

“It was M’Baku’s idea,” he said. “He thought it might help bring more unity between our people.”

"Well, as long as I'm politically useful, how can I say no?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re making that face.”

"What face? This is my normal face.”

“It would be a very big deal politically. If you’re going to do it, I need you to be serious.”

"I am very serious," she told him. "I will be even more serious after I have a chance to shower and rest. I flew a plane from California, you know.”

“In my defense, I wanted to let you do those things before I brought this up.” He directed the last few words at his wife.

"Right, I'm not getting involved. I will see you at dinner. Be nice to the teenagers if you see them.”

“We’ll see you at dinner,” Nakia said. But her voice indicated shit might be about to go down and Shuri was right to retreat with all due haste. She offered her brother an apologetic look before backing out the door and closing it behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

“All I’m saying is, you could have asked me before you agreed to this.”

M’Baku muttered apologies around a mouthful of food, and Mandla sighed and waited for his brother to finish chewing. During his last visit to the capitol, he’d arranged Mandla’s marriage. All on his own. And seemed to genuinely think this was a _good_ thing.

It wasn’t uncommon among their people in and of itself, but it was usually more negotiation than fiat.

"It just sort of happened," M'Baku said once he'd swallowed. "I didn't want to seem uninterested.”

“How about ‘let me check with my brother before I trade him like bushel of fur pelts?"

"The king didn't ask to speak with his sister before making the agreement.”

“How do you know they didn’t discuss it beforehand?”

"I suppose they could have, but I don't know that he planned to arrange it either. Some of the elders were talking about honoring traditions and a nice royal marriage being good for national pride and then-" He shrugged. "She's a good match.”

“I don’t doubt that.” And he didn’t. He’d had an immense crush on her as a teenager. “But I would have liked to have been asked. And I don’t want to go live down there, it’s hot.”

"Would you like to go to America?" His brother said it like he was dangling a toy above his head.

“Yes,” he said immediately, annoyed at his own enthusiasm. “I just assumed her brother would want her to stay home.”

"No, he made it clear she would still be splitting her time and you'd have to be okay with that. It was a condition of the Arrangement. I assured his Highness you wouldn't mind.”

“What if I had minded?!” This was completely ridiculous.

"I would have checked your room for the pod of the alien that had replaced you." Of all the things for his brother to embrace from the world of white people, he'd gone with cheesy sci fi movies.

Mandla sighed. “Doesn’t matter what I say, anyway, does it? Lest I wish to start a Diplomatic Incident.”

His brother shrugged and rolled his head on his neck. "Go and meet her. Spend some time together. If you really hate her I will speak with the King. But it's a good match and a good step for our people." While many of the Jabari had embraced a more open relationship with their lowland cousins, there were still pockets of holdouts and distrust. He supposed him marrying into the royal family would put at least some of them at ease that their seat at the table was permanent and respected.

“All right,” he said after a moment. “I will give it my best.”

"Thank you. You'll go to their lake house next week.”

Mandla tilted his head. “Okay, that I’m saying no to.”

“Why?"

“Because everything we do, we go to them. I want her to come here.”

M'Baku's brows went up, then he grinned. "Gramma ever tell you how Grandpa kidnapped her from her parent's house?”

“I’m not kidnapping her. Work that shit out with King Panther down there. This is my condition.”

"You're no fun. But I will speak with T'Challa. Make sure the princess packs warm boots.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” He hoped she didn’t hate him for this.

Two days later, his brother told him, in passing, that Shuri had agreed to come up here and would be arriving on Friday.

He wasn't sure what to expect. Maybe some sort of parade and entourage. She had never seemed one for pomp and circumstance, but she was the King's baby sister and he sort of expected her to have a flock of Dora surrounding her. Instead it was just her and one guard, bundled in thick cloaks, Shuri lugging a large black duffle back over one arm. Their guards spotted them when they were still halfway down the hill and came to tell him his bride had arrived.

After a moment of indecision, Mandla decided to hike out to meet her. If she was going to yell at him, might as well be with less of an audience.

He knew when her Dora spotted him as she grew tense. Shuri noticed him a moment later and turned to say something to the guard, who scowled but planted her spear and stopped walking as Shuri continued on to meet him.

"Hello," she said when they were close enough to speak. 

“You could have flown in, you didn’t have to hike through the pass.”

“Your brother said there was nowhere to land, and your people were afraid of planes.”

“My brother is a shit stirring asshole sometimes.”

She smirked. "I assumed there was some hazing going on. I do remember your brother's sense of humor.”

“It’s good to see you,” he said. He reached for her bag. “Let me take that.”

"Thank you," she held it out. He took it and she turned to the Dora and waved her off. She looked cranky, but tugged her weapon out of the snow and started back down the mountain.

“For a minute I was afraid we’d have a chaperone.”

"One of my conditions was no audience. That's why we originally suggested the lake house. My brother and Nakia spent a week there when they had their Arrangement.”

“We will have privacy, I promise. My people are very fond of personal space.”

"I like them already." She shoved her hands into the pockets of her cloak. "You've grown.”

He grinned. “Quite a bit. I believe we were eye to eye the last time I saw you.”

"More or less." He towered over her now and she wasn't particularly short. "I'm going to need a step ladder to talk to you.”

“We’ll just get you some very high platform shoes. Or hover shoes. I bet you could make something like that in your sleep.”

She grinned. "I'm already sketching it in my head.”

They walked for a moment in silence that wasn’t uncomfortable. “Did your brother ask you before making the agreement with mine?”

"Hah! No. He didn't even tell me he'd done it till I got here from California. He was lucky it was someone I knew and sort of liked or there'd have been a fight by the waterfall.”

Mandla laughed. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

"I really didn't expect him to do an Arrangement for me. But it worked out well for him in the end and I know there's political machinations between him and your brother so-" She shrugged and sighed. "Agreeing to come get to know you seemed like the easiest solution.”

“Given the politics involved, we’d probably have to really hate each other to get away with calling it off.”

Her brow furrowed a little and she glanced up at him. "Your brother is that serious about it?”

The look on her face concerned him. “Yes? Yours is not?”

"Arrangements are considered. . . suggestions. You're supposed to give it an honest try - one with political ties even more so - but there's no repercussions for saying no.”

“Ah.” He rubbed his forehead, pondering just how much of a mess this was going to be. At least he was good at being the family failure, so no one would be surprised. “Our brothers should be better at talking.”

She sighed. "What did I get volunteered for?”

“In our tribe, Arrangements nearly always end in a wedding.” This was such a mess. A depressing and disheartening and frustrating mess. “Obviously you didn’t know that and no one will make you—“ he broke off and shook his head. “How about we get in out of the snow and I’ll figure out how to unfuck this. Somehow.”

"Hey." She put her hand on his arm and gave it a little squeeze. "Don't throw yourself on the sword just yet. We can sort it out together." She gave a bounce. "Out of the snow sounds good though.”

“Warmth I can make happen,” he said. “Come on,” he said, starting up the trail to the mountain lodge they’d be staying in. He’d set a massive fire burning in the hearth before he left.

Shuri let out a little groan when she saw it, beelining to stand in front of the blaze and warm her hands. After a moment, she turned and backed up a bit, presumably to warm her ass. Only then did she glance around. "Are we the only ones here?”

“Yes. The pantry is stocked, and there’s plenty of wood. It’s set up so that we could lock ourselves in if we wanted to. We don’t _have_ to. But there’s no staff, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She nodded and shrugged out of the cloak. "I've gotten used to living alone in California. The palace had so many people in it I was overwhelmed. This will be nice.”

“I got that sense about it, yes.”

He took the cloak from her when she moved to hang it up. When he came back she was sitting on the couch, watching the fire. "So," she said when he got back. "We're engaged?”

He sat next to her. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know your people did it differently.”

"It's all right. It doesn't sound like this was your idea either.”

“No, but I did at least know what I was getting into.”

She smiled. "I'm flattered I left such a positive impression.”

He felt his face heat. “Well. You did save my life. And keep my secret.”

"I was sixteen. Of course I kept your secret. It was an excellent secret. And I fully understood sneaking behind your brother's back.”

“My grandmother told M’Baku I’d accidentally impaled myself on a tree branch.” He looked over at her, thinking just how ironic this whole thing was. “He hasn’t really taken me seriously since.”

She made a face. "I'm sorry. Whatever I may say about T'Challa, he does seem to remember I'm an adult most of the time.”

“I imagine you’ve more than proved your worth.”

"I'm still his baby sister, no matter what I accomplish."

He went over and poked the fire with one of the metal tools, shifting the logs around so it burned better. “It’s hard when people look at you and don’t really see you.”

"In Oakland I am my own person. I run the science center, the kids look up to me. It's nice." She lifted a shoulder. "T'Challa and our mother treat me like an adult, but it's not quite the same. I'm still the baby. I don't know." She shook her head. "It's hard to explain. I suppose I just like having something that's mine, away from the family.”

“That’s probably the sentiment that got me to sign up for this. Get out from under my brother’s shadow. See the world.” He tried not to sound as wistful as he felt, but he was never good at artifice.

She grinned. "You want to travel?”

“I was raised in an isolationist tribe inside an isolationist country. Hell yes, I want to travel.”

"I've mostly stayed in Oakland, but T'Challa took me to New York and Vienna for some UN events. We've got plans to open an out reach center in London, so I'll be spending a lot of time there next year.”

“That sounds like fun.”

She studied him a moment. "If we were engaged or Arranged or whatever, you could come.”

“As I said. . .” he gestured at the air. “That was part of the appeal.”

He couldn't quite read her expression. It was somewhere between thoughtful and plotting. "Tell me about yourself.”

He frowned. “What do you want to know?”

"I don't know. What do you do during the day? Do you have a job in the tribe? Hobbies?”

“I manage most of my brother’s formal correspondence. Also craft proclamations, flesh out the text of laws, etc. I’m a far better writer than he is. Lately I get a huge number of inquiries from the foreign press, which only increases my curiosity in the outside world.”

She tilted her head and the expression tipped all the way into plotting. Then she hopped to her feet. "I'm starving. Let's make lunch and start scheming.”

*

The fridge and pantry were pleasantly full and Shuri cobbled together a plate of smoked fish, goat cheese, and bread before perching on the island counter and looking at Mandla.

He had. . . really grown. It was probably stupid for her to have expected him to look the same as when they'd first met but _she_ hadn't changed all the much. She'd forgotten boys has a late-teen growth spurt. At least three of her kids in the last couple years had gone from shorter than her to towering over her seemingly overnight.

"So," she said, munching a piece of bread and cheese. "I have a proposition.”

“You have my attention,” he replied.

"Am I correct in the assumption that this week doesn't have to end in a marriage ceremony of some sort?”

“Are you talking about not getting married but not rejecting the Arrangement?"

"Sort of. My people tend to do a week of privacy, then decide whether to continue on as a couple or not. I'm twenty one, I'm not ready to marry anyone, Arranged or chosen. So we tell them we want more time. You want to travel with me, make sure you don't hate it. I want to make sure you fit in my life. We buy ourselves some time to figure out how to say no, but in the meantime we haven't disappointed anyone.”

She could see the surprise on his face. “You’d really do that?”

"You say it like it's a hardship. I promised my brother I'd give you a chance and as nice as a vacation will be I can't do that in five days in a cabin. Plus I like to show off my work and I could use another brain to pick, especially with the new London center.”

“You’re welcome to pick my brain but I don’t think I’m anywhere near as smart as you.”

"I'll have to do speeches and press releases and tours. It would be nice to have someone look them over, translate my 'Wakandan technobabble-'" She paused to do air quotes. "Into English.”

“That is definitely something that I could do.” He grinned and it reminded her of his teenage self.

"See? You'll be helping me out.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m a little in awe of you right now. Much like the day you saved my life.”

Shuri grinned, feeling her cheeks heat. "I am pretty awesome.”

“I think I’m going to enjoy being your fake betrothed.”

"Good." She held out the food. "Eat and tell me what we can do without ourselves this week. I didn't get to see much last time I was up here.”

“We excel at any manner of mountain sport you can think of. Climbing, jumping, skiing, sledding, skating. There’s a giant ice slide that’s very popular.”

She felt her eyes widen. "I want to try that.”

“I will make it happen. I usually get to jump the line.”

"I like rock climbing, too," she told him. "And I've never been skiing.”

“Climbing is one of my favorite hobbies. I’m not the greatest skier, so you’ll have good company.”

She took a deep breath and smiled. "Sounds like a fun week.”

“I absolutely promise to show you the best possible time.”

"I'm looking forward to it," she said, popping a piece of cheese into her mouth.

Mandla did his best to show her a good time. The ice slide was a ton of fun. His idea of ‘not good at skiing’ was probably still better than anyone in the lowlands, but he was a good sport and didn’t mock her for falling a lot—which she did. He didn’t complain when she spent most of that evening disassembling her skis to install gravitational stabilizers in them. 

He didn’t even complain when she took his vacuum cleaner apart for parts.

The next day, she was sore from all her falls. Mandla made her a hearty breakfast once she'd limped her way out to the kitchen. "You guys have to have some kind of secret hot tubs or something up here.”

“Oh, they’re pretty common. There’s one out on the deck there.” He pointed. “I just have to clean off the snow and get it running.”

She gaped at him. "You've been holding out on me, Jabari.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to, it’s. . .outside.” He gestured vaguely.

"Sitting in a hot tub is the best way to experience the snow," she informed him solemnly.

“I will go fire the damn thing up, then.” He patted her arm. “Sit tight.”

"Thank you!" she called after him. _Had_ she been husband hunting, she thought he'd be ranking pretty high right now. She could see him through the glass doors, sweeping the snow and then opening the cover to test the water. It was apparently cold enough to make him wince. He went out of view, probably to mess with the control panel, and then closed the cover.

“It’ll be about an hour,” he said when he got back in. He paused and added. “If you want to take it apart to improve that time, I recommend you do it after your soak.”

She grinned. "Before I leave I'll halve that, if not better.”

“You really are going to be a wonderful addition to my life,” he said with a smile.

She knew he was being facetious, but it was still a very nice compliment. "I hope so," she told him sincerely.

The smile she got back was genuine. “Me, too.”


	4. Chapter 4

They finished breakfast and cleaned up, then Shuri tried to teach Mandla a couple of the card games she'd learned in the States. He went out a few times to check the tub before declaring it warm enough to sit in.

"Thank Bast," she said, easing to her feet. "Time to cobble together a bathing suit.”

“I can go hide in the bedroom if you want to go in, you know. . .” He cleared his throat, looking adorably embarrassed.

She raised her brows, ignoring the heat in her own cheeks. "I was sort of hoping you'd join me. Not, um, you know. But if you had shorts. . .”

“I do, I just. . . didn’t want to presume.”

"Oh, don't worry. If you over step, you'll know.”

He cleared his throat. “I’ll go get changed,” he said. “I have every faith in your ability to engineer a bathing suit out of whatever is in your bag.”

He'd better hope so or one of them was going to explode with embarrassment. It took some rummaging, but a sports bra, her most unflattering underwear and a little sarong style skirt seemed to be sufficient. Snagging a towel from the linen closet, she left it near the fire to warm up, before darting outside to sink into the water.

Mandla was already in the tub, which was bubbling and enshrouded in steam. She could see he was wearing a t-shirt, though. It seemed odd to her, but she decided not to comment. Maybe he was shier than she'd thought.

Besides, the hot water felt amazing on her sore muscles. She groaned in pleasure, leaning her head back on the edge of the tub.

“Good?” he asked quietly.

"Perfect," she confirmed, closing her eyes. "This was just what I needed.”

“Maybe tomorrow we’ll try something gentler than skiing.”

She smiled. "That would be nice. But I would like to ski with you again.”

“With your suped-up skis it will probably be a lot of fun.”

"There's skiing in California, just a few hours from Oakland. Think of the skis I could build in a proper lab.”

He grinned widely. “I would love that.”

She really did love that smile of his. "It's a date.”

They floated in the warm water a bit, just relaxing. Eventually he said, “If you would like to do something today that doesn’t involve physical activity, my grandmother really wants to meet you.”

Her brows went up. "Taking me to meet your grandma? Are you sure that's wise?”

“She’s the only other person who knows about the battle, and she really wants to thank you for saving me.”

Oh, right in the feels. "Then I would love to meet her.”

“Thank you. Because she’s completely impossible to say no to.” He made a face. “Something I suspect you two have in common.”

"You suspect correctly. I'm both adorable and persuasive.”

“Gramma is a cantankerous steamroller, but it works just as well.”

"We'll get along fine." She poked him with her foot. "Do you want to tell her the truth about our Arrangement?”

“I. . . I don’t know. She’s of a different generation—fifty years ago there absolutely was a wedding at the end of the week. But she really wants to see me happy. She worries. I honestly can’t tell which version of the story she’d prefer.”

"Hmm." She drummed her fingers on the edge of the tub. "We can play it by ear. I'll take my cues from you.”

“She’s hard to lie to, so the truth may win.”

"She's kept your other secret this long, maybe she'll be okay with it.”

“She gets me. More than most people. So, yeah, probably.” He tipped his head back to look at the sky. “You think I should just tell her straight?”

"We probably don't have to march in and announce 'Hello Gramma this is my fake fiancee tell no one!'" She grinned when she saw him smile. "But maybe we just don't hide it.”

“I’m not certain our behavior is all that different from how we’d behave of we took it seriously. We’ve known each other three days, I don’t think anyone would expect us to be holding hands and making out on the couch.”

"That's sort of my point. The truth is we're still getting to know each other.”

“Act natural, is what you’re saying to me.”

"Seems the easiest answer." She reached over to touch his hand, adding, very seriously, "Will there be embarrassing baby pictures?”

“There might be embarrassing pictures from last week,” he replied with a laugh.

"Now I really can't wait to meet your grandma.”

“I will set it up,” he said. “How’s your back feeling?”

She twisted and stretched to test it. “Better."

“When you’re ready to get out, I will brave the snow as I am used to it, and bring you a warm towel.”

"You don't have to-" she began.

“Hush. I don’t need you turning into an icicle. One or both of our brothers would kick my ass.”

She laughed. "All right. Good point.”

Sure enough, he sprinted across the icy deck, and returned a few moments later wrapped in a robe, holding out a huge towel that was, itself, steaming.

"You are awesome," she told him, climbing out of the tub and stepping close to take the towel.

He hustled her inside. “We don’t need frostbitten toes.”

"You're very practical," she complained.

“I absolutely am. We’re polar opposites. This might be a disaster.”

"Oh, it almost certainly is. That's why it'll be fun.”

*

Shuri and Gramma got along great. He was almost irrelevant within five minutes of the meeting. It was no time at all before the promised embarrassing photos came out.

"And here he is on his first pair of skis."

"Oh my goodness!" Shuri all but cackled. "Look at your little fur hat!”

“I loved that hat,” Mandla said.

Gramma of course felt compelled to add, “He insisted on sleeping in it.”

"It's a good look on you," Shuri told him seriously.

He looked at the ceiling. “This was a terrible idea.”

"It was a great idea," Shuri and Gramma said in unison.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m going to go make myself a snack.”

"Could you bring me something?" Shuri asked.

“Anything you wish,” he said as he stood.

"Whatever you're having is fine.” 

He nodded, and went to rifle through Gramma’s pantry. He wasn’t surprised when Gramma materialized in the doorway a few moments later. “I can dig out a box of nuts without assistance,” he said.

"A handful of nuts isn't going to feed both of you," she informed him, bustling past him to start gathering food.

“It’s a snack,” he said, though arguing with her was futile. And anyway, she’d come in here to talk to him about something else.

"So, your brother managed to put together a decent Arrangement for you. I'm impressed.”

He found himself smiling. “You know, he really did.”

She glanced over at him. "So you'll be leaving, then?”

“Yes,” he said. “It’s part of the deal. She has a lot of commitments and work she’s doing. She’s one of the smartest people alive, she wasn’t going to sit up here in the mountains with the technophobes.”

"I know, I know." Gramma sighed. "Will she take care of you? Make you happy?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “We’re going to take our time and figure it out.”

She seemed to consider that as she chopped up fruit and arranged crackers and cheese. "Well, you be sure to come back and visit me.”

“I will. I just. . .It would be nice to see what it’s like outside of M’Baku’s shadow.”

Smiling, Gramma reached over to touch his cheek. "You deserve to have the world see you for you," she told him. "Go take it by storm.”

He hugged her. “Thank you, Gramma.”

She squeezed him tightly, rubbing his back. "And, you know, if you _wanted_ to make me a great-grandma before I died. . .”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he said. It would be a good moment to tell her how things really were, but he found he couldn’t bring himself to.

"Fine, fine." She patted his cheek. "Now, go entertain your girl, I'll finish the snack.”

She wouldn’t have taken no for an answer, so he went back out into the sitting room, where Shuri was still looking through the photo album. “Is your mother going to shower me in childhood pictures, too?”

"If she can find any I didn't burn," she replied, grinning to show she was kidding.

He sat across from her. “I’m sure you were an adorable little kid.”

"I was a troublemaker. Most of the pictures of me were taken moments after my mother discovered whatever new mess I'd made.”

Mandla laughed. “Yeah, I’m not surprised.”

"I'm sure she will have all the embarrassing stories you can stand.”

“Then we’ll both have ammo to keep each other in line.”

"An essential part to any relationship," she agreed.

He spent the rest of the week taking her on a tour of his favorite activities. She turned out to be very good at mountain climbing. In the evening he worked on some of his writing while Shuri tinkered. “So what are you going to tell your family?”

"More or less the truth," she said, not looking up from whatever she was working on. "A week isn't long enough to make a decision and I'm too young to get married, but I want to take you to America and see how you fit in my life for a while.”

“I was wondering if they’d be surprised you’re bringing me back at all. As it sounds like it might be more of a ceremonial/political exercise to you guys.”

She looked over at him. "It's not that we don't take it seriously. It's just seen as more of a suggestion rather than a requirement. My parents weren't Arranged, but T'Challa and Nakia were. But it took them over a decade to stick with it. They may be surprised I bring you back, but I'm guessing that would be more because they're expecting me to reject it on principle.”

He smirked. “Like a rebellious teenager?”

"Some reputations are hard to shake.”

“Never has a truer thing been said.” He watched her squint at a microchip. “Shuri?”

"Yes, dear?”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, sincerely.

Looking over again, she smiled, soft and sweet. "You're very welcome.”

He paused a moment, then asked, “Are they going to find it weird we want separate rooms?”

She made a face, clicking her teeth. "That might raise some eyebrows.”

“Maybe you could tell them my people are prudes. You’re just looking after my modesty.”

"I'm not sure they'll buy that, given you're going to come live with me in America.”

He chewed on the end of his pen. “It’s not crazy to say we’d like to know each other more than a week before sleeping together.”

"True. Raised eyebrows don't mean I'll get interrogated, as long as we otherwise act normally.”

“Any of my weird you can probably legitimately blame on me being Jabari. We’re pretty weird, as a people.” He said it with a grin.

She returned the grin, laughing a little. "Only a little.”

Their last night, his family threw them a big party. All of their elders came, and all of the important society people and his brother’s advisors. Shuri was a good sport with all the people who wanted to hug her or tell her stories. 

She held his hand as they walked back to the cabin, and he thought it wasn't entirely for show. "You know, I had a very fun week.”

“Me too. You’re good company. I think our adventures are going to be fun.”

"Will you come down to the palace with me tomorrow or do you need time to pack and prepare?”

“I’ll come with you, it won’t take me long to pack.”

"All right." She squeezed his hand. "Hopefully I can show you as good a time as you have me.”

“Assuming I don’t melt, of course.” He smiled to show he was teasing.

"I'll build you a personal AC unit.”

“I have _every_ faith in your inventing skills.”

M'Baku and Gramma came out to see them off the next morning. His grandmother gave him a pack of food for the road and new socks and a hat. His brother gave him a fur mantle it was never going to be cold enough to wear and a hug goodbye. 

Shuri had brought a plane up by remote command so they wouldn’t have to hike out, and so Mandla got to sit in the cockpit and stare, mesmerized, out the window as they flew.

"My interns still have two weeks left to their trip," Shuri told him as they got in view of the palace. "So you'll have time to sight see here before we head back to the States.”

“Will you take me on a tour of some kind? Dress me up and show me off?”

She looked over at him. "Do you. . . want me to?”

He chuckled. “Absolutely not. 

"Thank Bast. I was about to reassess everything I thought I knew about you.”

“I’ve seen most of the hot spots on trips with my brother. But I am of a ruling family myself, so I understand that there are a certain amount of public obligations one must tolerate.”

Shuri smiled, waved him off. "The people are generally more interested in T'Challa, Nakia, and the baby. But we'll see if they have anything planned.”

He watched her fly a few minutes, then said. “I _would_ love to go sightseeing in California. I know it’s probably going to sound very childish. . . but I’ve always wanted to go to Disneyland.”

To his surprise, she bounced in her seat. "It's amazing! I have season passes. We'll get you mouse ears.”

He grinned. “Really?”

"Of course! Oh!" She grinned. "Let's get your _brother_ some mouse ears.”

He really, really liked this girl.


	5. Chapter 5

As always, Shuri’s family met the plane. They were quite welcoming of Mandla, and she was relieved that they had already set him up with his own room across the hall from hers. T’Challa went back to work without asking too many questions, and they were left to settle in. 

She wasn’t surprised at how quickly Nakia showed up at her door, though.

"I don't suppose you'll believe I don't kiss and tell," Shuri said once she'd let her in.

“I came to see if the room arrangements were okay.”

"They're great, thank you. We could use a little space after a week in a cabin.”

She sat on one of Shuri’s overstuffed chairs. “Which is not to say it’s some sort of order. Your brother will not come banging on the door at two AM or glare menacingly across the breakfast table if you do not remain in separate rooms.”

"Are you sure? Because that sounds like something he'd enjoy doing.”

“Possibly. But I’ll remind him he’s not generally a hypocrite. I slept in my room exactly one night during our arrangement.”

Shuri really didn't need to know these things. "Mandla and I are taking it slow," she said, then added in the hope of heading interrogation off, "The Jarabi are a little more conservative about such things.”

“That’s understandable. And clearly not something you want to talk about.”

Feeling a little bad, since Nakia clearly wanted to be supportive and helpful, Shuri said, "We had a really nice time. He took me skiing and mountain climbing. I met his Grandmother.”

“You like his family?”

"It's just his brother and Gramma. M'Baku is M'Baku, but his grandmother was wonderful and supportive.”

“And they’re okay with you taking him to America? I mean, I know that was part of T’Challa’s negotiations. . . but we honestly thought it would be a dealbreaker in the end. The Jabari are kind of insular even for Wakandans.”

"His Gramma seemed kind of sad about it, but proud of him." Shuri grinned. "I snuck her a bead bracelet before we left so they can talk.”

Nakia laughed. “Good for you.”

"M'Baku is hard to read and they don't have the same relationship as T'Challa and I. But I think he's proud of him. Mandla really wants to travel, to see more of the world. I almost wonder if that was part of the reason M'Baku agreed to the Arrangement.”

“He’s often a bit gruff, but I’ve always found him to be a kind man, in my dealings with him. It would not surprise me.”

That was more or less Shuri's assessment. She didn't really understand the tension between him and Mandla, but they did seem to love each other, even if they didn't understand each other. "He wants to go to Disneyland. Mandla, not M'Baku. I promised him a trip when we get back.”

“That’s adorable.”

"He's a really good writer, too. He's going to help with my speeches and take over press releases.”

“That’s probably good. There will be less complaints about ‘technobabble’.”

"I still say I talk perfectly normally.”

“The only person on this earth who fully understands your scientific papers is Tony Stark.” 

Shuri made a face, but couldn't argue that. "Still. I think we'll be a good team.”

“It sounds like you will. In hindsight it probably would have behooved your brother and I to spend more of our Arrangement talking.”

"I continue to not want to think about my brother's sex life.”

“Understandable. Perhaps you can pretend Bast dropped our children off at the door in baskets.”

"That's the theory I'm most comfortable with.”

“I wish it were true. Birth is terrible.” 

"I intend to build my children in the lab.”

“Only you could figure out how.” She tilted her head. “You know, there are many women who can’t carry children who would probably find some sort of artificial womb quite miraculous.” Shuri and T’Challa had been quite careful with the sharing of any weapons-related technology, but their medical technology had been shared in abundance. One of the earliest things shared was equipment that could save very premature babies. They were just beginning to come into use because of how long most countries took to test and approve medical devices, but the technology could likely be adapted and expanded.

Of course, the mere existence of their current technology had set of a firestorm of debate in many countries—particularly the US—as they had some very backward ideas about abortion and reproductive rights. An artificial womb would probably only enhance that.

"I'll add it to the list," was all she said. The media probably thought her list was facetious, since that was her answer for just about every suggestion. But she did have one, a little list of goals, scrawled in Wakandan, tucked in a drawer back home. It was an eclectic hodge podge of inventions spanning weapons, biotech, and just every day conveniences. And unfortunately she added to it far faster than she could make things.

"For now, I'm going to check on my interns and figure out when I can take Mandla down to the market.”

“Are you taking him shopping?”

"He needs clothes he can wear in Oakland.”

“Ah, yeah. I can see how gorilla pelts and grass skirts might not go over that well in the US.”

"I thought the market here might be a nice baby step." Though she was going to miss the skirt. He had nice legs.

There must have been something on her face, because Nakia smirked. “I’m sure you’ll find something for him.”

"I'm very resourceful.”

“That is a nearly ridiculous understatement.”

Shuri spent the afternoon letting the interns recount their week with all the enthusiasm of hyperactive puppies given a bucket of tennis balls. Most of them had projects in the works, so she did a round to check on them and give input. She'd been a little nervous about abandoning them for the mountains, but they'd clearly thrived with the change in supervision. It made her a little sad, but mostly gave her hope that they'd do find without her once she was splitting her time with the London center.

When they'd been shuffled off to their next activity she went and knocked on Mandla's door.

He grinned at her when it opened. “Hello, Shuri.”

"Hi. How are your accommodations?”

“Luxurious and delightful.” He stepped back. “Come in, come in.”

She followed him into the room. "I came to see if you were up for some shopping.”

He looked like she’d just asked him to go mud farming in the swamps. “Shopping?”

This might be harder than she'd thought. "I was going to suggest we get you some clothes that might fit in in Oakland. But if you don't want to I'm not going to make you.”

He sighed a little. “Seems like something that is necessary.” He looked at her. “For a moment I was afraid I was going to have to carry your bag while you spent three hours looking at shoes.”

Shuri grinned. "No. I do like clothing. And shoes. But I do not force others to suffer for my beauty.”

“I refuse to believe your beauty requires suffering.”

"Oh, flattery will get you very far.”

“I will make a note of that.” It was a cliched thing to say—except he literally pulled out a little notepad—like, _paper_ —and made an actual note to himself.

Brows arching, the tried to peer at it upside down. "Are you keeping a list of something?”

He pulled it close to his chest. “I like lists.”

She held up her hands. "I don't judge. I have many lists. Otherwise I'd forget half the things I want to make.”

He nodded and put it back in his pocket. “Shopping it is, then.”

"It'll be fun," she said brightly, trying to will it to be true.

Since the borders had been opened, the number of stores selling western clothes—once mostly novelty—had proliferated. Shuri took him to one of those first. . . where she learned he thought denim wouldn’t be fit to make a saddle out of, and zippers were and offense against both Bast and Hanauman. 

“All I’m saying,” he told her when they stopped for coffee and a snack. “Is that it is a metal device, with _teeth_ placed in a very sensitive. . .location. It’s courting disaster.”

She was laughing too hard to eat. "I wear them just fine, but as my sensitive location does not dangle, I will concede your point.”

“I honestly don’t know how the American men who clearly buy these pants do it.” He wrinkled his nose. “Maybe that’s why they’re all circumcised.”

"I'm told that's falling out of fashion, but otherwise, no comment." She sipped her coffee. "The Wakandan style slacks we got will work just fine.”

“I don’t mind looking like a weird foreigner.”

"People will think you're exotic.”

He grinned at her. “I’ll make sure to emphasize my funny accent.”

"Oh, I should bring you up to speed on the weird Wakandan sayings I've made up to mess with people.”

He leaned back in his chair. “You made up fake lost-in-translation idioms on purpose?” He sounded very impressed.

"Of course I did. I have to work with groups of teenagers dealing with hormone poisoning. Confusion is just one of my many tools.”

“I know the Outreach Center does many things, and you have many jobs. . . but you speak of those kids with the most fondness.”

She smiled. "They're my kids. Their minds are so sharp, so eager to learn. Some of them just come in and do their thing and head out again. But a lot of them, their parents are busy, their siblings have their own problems, and their teachers are more concerned with the trouble making kids, so my center is the only place they feel listened to and safe.”

“I have been the boy that didn’t fit in anyplace many times.”

"I was thinking, I'm sure there's some boys who would rather have a guy to hang out with than me. Even if you're not technically minded.”

“I would be honored to help with that.”

"Maybe you'll discover a budding writer or two.”

He drained his coffee cup. “I really cannot wait to start our adventure.”

*

The Outreach Center had housing within it, mostly to allow Shuri and any visiting Wakandas to live in a familiar style and facilities. Mandla had an apartment of his own, across the hall from Shuri’s. He redecorated it in a more familiar Jabari style—even though apparently gorilla pelts were illegal in the US. He promised her he wouldn’t wear them in public.

She had him put on the payroll as a "cultural advisor" so he wouldn't be living off of her. He spent his mornings working with her on the plans for the London center and brainstorming ideas to keep the current one thriving. They did make a good team, and Shuri quickly handed over some of her endless list of duties, which was equal parts overwhelming and fascinating. It was nice to feel useful and necessary.

Shuri fulfilled her promise to take him to Disneyland, which was every bit as awesome as he’d imagined. Mouse ears and all.

“You really going to send those back to your brother?” she asked him as they left the shop.

“Of course I am. I’m going to tell him it’s in important American cultural artifact, and have Gramma report back what happens.”

"She better get pictures. The blackmail material would be worth millions.”

There was a cart nearby selling ice cream, and he insisted on getting them some. He had something he wanted to talk to her about, and feeding her sugary treats was a good opening. “I am really happy here.”

"They do advertise as the happiest place on earth.”

“I don’t mean in Disneyland. Not that I am not _also_ happy here.”

She stirred her ice cream. "So you're enjoying your fake betrothal?”

“More than even I imagined.”

"Good." She grinned. "So am I.”

He sighed. “I know it was supposed to be temporary. . .”

She waited patiently and, when he didn't continue, waved her hand at him. "Spit it out.”

“I don’t want to go back,” he said in a rush.

Shuri didn't answer right away, sucking ice cream off her little plastic spoon. “Okay."

He’d really thought that would take more persuasion. “Really? Just like that?”

"We're going to have to sit down and think up a lot of excuses, but. . . yes. I like having you around. You're an asset to the Centers and becoming a very close friend. Eventually, we should probably figure out how to 'break up' with each other. But for now, we can keep up the charade to keep you around.”

“I hate to ask you to lie to your family. It has been my strongest hesitation.”

She sighed. "To be honest, I'm probably going to have to fess up sooner rather than later. Nakia is a spy, she's going to suspect something. But they'll understand. It's mostly your brother I worry about. I assumed he'd make you come home if we weren't engaged.”

“Almost certainly, yes. Hence. . .” he gestured between them.

"Right." She scraped the last of her ice cream out of the container and tossed the empty cardboard away. "I am willing to ride this deception as long as it's working for us both." Smiling, she licked her thumb and reached out to clean something off his chin. "So we figure out our cover stories together.”

“I would really love to hug you right now.”

She spread her arms, head tilted. "Bring it in.”

He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her against his chest. “Thank you, my Princess.”

"Oh, I like that. Let's keep that as a pet name.”

He laughed. “For as long as we are fake-engaged, I promise.”

"You're the best fake fiancé ever.”

“If we come up with some excuse to always go home separately, that will cut down on a lot of deception.”

"We can probably have convenient conflicting projects and work emergencies.”

“Someone should really stay at the Center when the other is gone,” he offered.

"Good one," she said, pointing at him.

“We can make this work.”

"Yes, we can, we're very smart." She tucked her arm into his. "Now, come on, I want to ride the Haunted Mansion again.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” he said with a grin.


	6. Chapter 6

For a while, it was as simple as that. They spent a couple months in London choosing the site for the new center and getting through all the red tape. While they were there, they hopped over to see Paris and other cities Mandla had only read about in books. Then they were back in Oakland in time for him to have his first Christmas.

Shuri went home after the new year, a few months later Mandla went back for his Grandmother's birthday. Both times they made up excuses for the other. His brother teased him a bit about traveling without his fiancee, but overall seemed proud of him for making it work with Shuri and for his part in the Wakandan outreach. The happy slaps on the back caused a few twinges of guilt, but nothing bad enough to make him confess.

It was nice to have his brother be proud of him, though very apropos that was, in the end, fake.

Mandla did miss her a great deal when they were apart.

When he got back, she met him at the airport and regaled him with stories of the kids' antics while he was gone. They spent most evenings on each others couches, catching up on work or abusing Shuri's Netflix account. The engagement might have been fake, but she had clearly been telling the truth when she'd called him a friend. She was quickly becoming the best friend he'd ever had.

“I’ve been making a list of things I I’d like to see,” he told her one night.

"Captain America did that.”

“Great, I’m adopting the traits of a coma patient.” At this point he was well used to Shuri’s random trivia. He knew a couple of the Avengers had lived in Wakanda for a while at one point—he assumed that was where that factoid came from.

"As long as you don't start jumping out of planes." She looked over. "What's on your list?”

“Different cities. Landmarks in lots of places. I was looking at it the other day, and I thinking about checking some off and maybe writing a book.”

She grinned. He really adored how expressive her face was. "I love that. I can't wait to read it.”

“I’m going to try writing it in both Wakandan and English simultaneously. So it can be read at home, and by the outside world.”

"I think that's an amazing idea. It could also be used as a teaching aid for people who want to learn Wakandan." She paused. "Do you want time off to go see some things?”

“I would need that, yes. Part of me wants to ask you to come along. Part thinks maybe it would be good for me to go alone.”

She tilted her head, studying him a moment. "Is something wrong?”

“No, no, I just. . . don’t ever do things on my own. I was always in my brother’s shadow, and I needed you to get me out of Wakanda. Might be nice to do something alone. But then I’d really miss you. I don’t know if seeing new things would be nearly as fun without you.”

Her smile now was almost shy and she looked back at the gadget she was fiddling with. She tended to do that while she thought. "Why don't you write up an itinerary? And I could pop in on you for some spots and let you explore on your own for others?”

“Sounds like an excellent compromise.” He reached over and touched her hand. “Thank you.”

Turning her hand over, she wove their fingers together. "I want you to be happy.”

“I am honestly happier than I’ve ever been in my life.” He had an urge to pull her closer. He found touching her one of the most calming and comforting things in the world.

"I'm glad. I like having you around. But I know how much I grew up and found my feet when I had the chance to be on my own. I want you to have that.”

“I’ll do my best not to get lost.”

She gave his hand a little squeeze. "IF you do, I'll come find you.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second.”

"It'll give me an excuse to make myself a suit.”

He opened and closed his mouth. “Oh, man, you have got to make yourself a suit. My misbegotten adventures aside. You need one.”

"I like you because you enable me," she told him sincerely.

“It is my pride, honor, and duty to do so.”

"Thank you," she said with equal sincerity.

He set up his trips in short bursts of travel. Sometimes she came with him, sometimes she didn’t. It surprised him sometimes what she was interested in vs what she wasn’t.

Actually, that wasn’t true. He was was not even remotely surprised she wanted to visit the Mall of America and the World’s Largest Ball of Twine and not the Grand Canyon. She came to Australia and put up with some landscape sightseeing in return for dragging him to a series of bizarre novelty structures around the country—such as a 15m high replica of a pineapple and a giant concrete sheep. She came to Machu Pichu and they climbed in the Andes. They went to Tokyo, pronounced Mt. Fuji a tourist attraction, and made themselves sick eating every strange piece of raw fish they could get their hands on.

His book nearly wrote itself.

In between it all, life went on. He met her in London for the ribbon cutting on the new Outreach Center. T'Challa and Nakia had a second baby, a boy this time, that Shuri sent dozens of pictures of. During one of his breaks in Oakland, Shuri asked him to write up a press release asking for applications for their next few centers.

Two of the first batch of kids she'd worked with graduated college and again, she sent him pictures as if she was their own mother.

He was in California all summer. The kids program was at it’s busiest when school was out, and they had day camps starting at 6 or 7 years old now. 

“So I was thinking of climbing one of the really, really big mountains,” he said to her one evening, out to dinner at a seafood restaurant.

"Everest?" she asked, dunking bread into her clam chowder.

“I’d thought, but apparently it’s really crowded up there, considering. But perhaps one of the other 8,000 meter peaks in the Himalayas. But those are also enormous and very long undertaking. These are not mountains you just stroll up like Kilimanjaro.”

Shuri laughed. “Only a Jabari would describe the tallest mountain on the continent as a ‘stroll’.”

“So I am debating,” he continued like she hadn’t mocked him. “But it might be a nice goal for next year.”

"If you're going to do anything you would consider an undertaking, I think I'll skip it," she told him. "But if it's something with a handrail or two I'm in.”

“That sounds fair.”

"It's funny," she said. "That's the kind of trip that would make a good honeymoon.”

“Yeah, a sleeping bag on the side of a mountain sounds like a fun place to have lots of sex.”

She laughed. "It's a good place to get inventive.”

“With a bunch of strangers around, and in the snow,” he added, knowing her tolerance for snow was much lower than his. “Though there is an old Jabari tradition where a young couple was sent to spend a night alone on a mountain if they are having trouble getting pregnant. Somehow that’s supposed to help.”

Her look of horror was priceless. “ _How?_ "

“Hell if I know.”

"My husband drags me out in the snow for a night I'd certainly rethink having a kid with him. Or any sex again, ever.”

Mandla laughed. “I’m sure your people have plenty of weird superstitions.”

"Nonsense, my tribe of cat worshipers is not in the least superstitious." She scooped up the last of her soup with bread and slid the bowl away. "Speaking of, I'm thinking of getting a cat.”

He raised an eyebrow. “To worship?”

"I was thinking more to pet and feed and have sit in my lap." She paused. "So yes, to worship.”

“Don’t suppose I can get a gorilla?”

"Still illegal in this country.”

“You and your laws.” His Komoyo Beads chimed, and he looked down at them. The only person who ever called him, other than Shuri, was his grandmother. Shuri had given her beads so they could talk. But he didn’t like using them in public places. “Hang on, let me go outside and take this.”

"I totally won't plow through the calamari while you're gone.”

“You’re a terrible friend,” he said as he stood. He went outside to their car and sat it in—it was the quickest and easiest privacy.

He tapped the relevant bead to activate the conversation, and was _very_ surprised to see his brother’s face.

"You need to come home," M'Baku said without any greeting.

Dread curled in his stomach. “Why? What happened?”

"Gramma has passed to the land of the ancestors.”

*

Shuri was working her way through the calamari when Mandla came back. She opened her mouth to make a joke, but the sound died when she saw the look on his face. 

“I need to go home,” he said before she could ask what was wrong.

She wiped her hands on her napkin and dug out her wallet to leave cash on the table. "What's happened?”

“My, um. . .” he cleared his throat. “My grandmother died.”

"Oh," she breathed. Instinctively, she stood and hugged him, pulling his head down to her shoulder. "I'm so sorry.”

He hugged her tight and whispered, “Can we go, please?”

"Yes, of course." She dropped way too much cash on the table and headed for the door with him. By the time she'd gotten to the car she'd messaged her assistants and started the pre-flight check on her plane.

Mandla stared out the window as she drove. “If you take me, I’ll never be able to explain why you didn’t come with me.” When he went home alone he usually took commercial flights to Nairobi and made arrangements for a pick up from Wakanda. 

"Convenient, then, that I'm coming with you." She probably should ask and not tell him. But she wasn't giving him the chance to demure and tell her he was fine.

“Okay I really, absolutely, cannot explain _this_ ,” he said, gesturing between them, “To my brother during my grandmother’s funeral.”

"You won't have to, okay? I'm not letting you go alone. So for however long we have to be, we'll be real finances.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, sounding so sad it made her heart ache.

"I don't know how your tribe does it, but in mine the whole family comes to pay their respects and care for the mourners. No matter what our betrothal status, by this point you are definitely my family. I'm coming, I'm taking care of you.”

He closed his eyes and his shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”

She reached over and rubbed his back. "Don't mention it.”

For the rest of the ride home he said nothing. When they got back to the building, he went to his apartment and said, “I need to pack,” without looking back. The wall shook with the force he slammed the door.

Shuri went into her place to do her own packing. Of course, she didn't have much in her closet that would be suitable for a funeral, and nothing Wakandan that would. Hoping her nephew was still forcing his parents to have weird hours, she sent Nakia a request to go shopping for her.

Once Nakia had confirmed she would, Shuri got the last of her things in her suitcase and checked on the jet, which was ready to go and had its flight clearances. Then she went to see if Mandla was ready yet. She found him half-packed, sitting on the end of his bed crying.

Her heart ached for him. She remembered, vividly, when Baba had died. T'Challa hadn't come home, focused on revenge and Shuri had done her best to be strong for her mother, who was lost in her own grief. Finally, the day before the funeral, it had all come crashing down on her and she'd ended up sobbing on the shoulder of one of the Dora assigned to watch her.

She went over and sat on the bed with him pulling him into a hug. He nearly swallowed her he was so much bigger than her. But for the moment she held him, because he needed her to. She rocked him and rubbed his back, letting him get it all out. Eventually he lifted his head and wiped his eyes. “Thank you,” he said. His voice was somehow normal sounding—it reminded her of all those years ago when he’d been stabbed by the spear.

"You're welcome," she said softly, using her thumb to wipe away a couple tear streaks he'd missed.

He lifted a hand and tapped it twice over his heart, and then hers, a Jabari sign of affection she’d only seen him do with his family. She cupped his jaw, then leaned her forehead on his. "Come," she said after a moment. "I'll help you pack.”

He nodded, and stood, and together they packed his bag. They went up to the plane, and he settled into the copilot seat and stared out the window, which was probably the best she could hope for.

She stopped at the palace to pick up her things from Nakia and hug her family. They left Mandla alone, but T'Challa did offer his condolences and requested to attend the funeral if he was welcome.

“I will ask my brother,” Mandla said when she got back on the plane. “He’ll either be honored or offended, it’s really 50/50 which.”

"Pretty sure that's why T'Challa asked instead of just assuming he could show up.”

“All these years on the council, I think M’Baku considers him a friend. But you never can tell with him.”

"People react differently to grief," she said. "When Baba died T'Challa went on a multi-city rampage of revenge. He understands giving someone space.”

“There is no one to be angry at here,” he said. “Except perhaps time.”

"Maybe that's worse. It was kind of nice having someone to blame.”

“Anger is a more productive emotion than grief.”

"It is." She looked over at him. "Grief is okay, though.”

“I know. But it’s also a sinkhole. You give in to it, you drown.”

"I'll keep your head up," she promised him. He didn’t say anything, but he reached out to squeeze her hand.

She landed in Jabari land and together, they hiked down to the palace. M'Baku met them on the trail, reaching out to hug Mandla without a word. They hugged a moment, M’Baku patting the back of his brother’s head. Then he turned and hugged Shuri, which was definitely a lifetime first.

"My comfort for your loss," she told him, though it was mostly muffled in his shoulder.

“Thank you for coming, and bringing him home so swiftly. My wife has taken the children for some rock climbing to blow off steam, but she had a room made up for you before she went.” Beside her, Shuri could feel Mandla tense.

"That would be lovely," she said. "It was a long flight and I don't think Mandla has slept.”

“Come with me,” he said, turning and walking up the path. Shuri took Mandla's hand and gave him a tug, following M'Baku.

He lead them over the long, terrifying suspended foot bridge that lead to the entrance to the palace, the up a footpath carved in sheer cliff to a round cabin tucked into the curve of the mountain. It wasn't where she and Mandla had spent their first week together, that had been farther out, private. This was in the heart of the city. 

“Get some rest,” M’Baku said. “And come join us for dinner?”

She nodded. "Of course." He inclined his head and left them as she herded Mandla inside.  
"You should try to nap," she told him as they set their bags down.

“Yeah,” he said. He walked around the bed—there was only one—and opened one of the door to a hallway. “The rest of the palace is that way, inside the mountain. He brought us up by the outside because he’s. . . him.”

"Maybe he wanted people to see you'd arrived." The man had hugged her, she'd give him the benefit of the doubt.

He scrubbed his eyes. “I’m just really tired.”

"I know, hon." She closed the door and steered him towards the bed. "Go lie down.”

“What are you gonna do while I nap?” He frowned, surveying the room. “I can sleep on that couch thing, you should take the bed.”

Apparently he got stubborn when tired. "You are not going to fit on the couch, you're ten feet tall." She pushed on him but he didn't move. "Mandla, seriously, _lie down_.”

He looked down at her. “You’re going to zap me with something if I don’t, aren’t you?”

"The only reason I haven't already is I can't move you.”

“All right,” he said, going over to the bed and taking off his jacket and his shoes. They’d left in such a hurry they were both still wearing western clothes. “I will lay.”

"Thank you." She kicked her shoes off and perched on the other side of the bed. There was plenty of room for both of them.

“Are you going to nap, too?” he asked, getting under the covers. Jabari blankets were fabulously warm.

"I was thinking about it.”

“Sleep off the jet lag,” he told her. He was good at knowing when to enable her.

That was all the encouragement she needed, really. Pausing long enough to take her bra off under her shirt, she stood and pulled the covers back on her side to slip into the bed with him.

“Thank you,” he said to her, his eyes closing. “For everything.”

"You're welcome. And that's the last time you say that this trip. We're good, Mandla.”

“You are amazing and I will appreciate you as often as I damn well please.”

"Don't make me zap you.”

“It would be a worthy zapping,” he replied, mostly mumble. “Goodnight, my princess.”

She stroked his hair and sighed. "Goodnight, Mandla.” He turned his face toward her hand, and she could see him relax as he finally fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

They woke a few hours later to the gentle chiming of Shuri's Komoyo Beads. She'd set an alarm before drifting off so they'd have time to get ready for dinner. Mandla had wrapped himself around her, essentially pinning her to the bed. She flailed in an attempt to get up, then sighed and poked him gently till he stirred.

He grumbled but didn’t open his eyes. “What?”

"We have to get up, your brother invited us for dinner.”

“I’m not hungry,” he replied, possibly a lifetime first. 

"Don't you want to see your brother?”

He sighed and opened his eyes slowly. “I want to roll back time is what I want. I want to be here in time to say goodbye.”

She rubbed a hand over his arm. "I know you do.”

He looked down at his arm. “Aw, I’m crushing you, I’m sorry,” he said, rolling onto his back.

Shuri sat up and stretched, then turned to look at him. "You couldn't have known this would happen. She was happy for you. And you spoke to her often.”

“Virtual isn’t the same as being here.”

"I know." She took his hand in hers and wove their fingers together.

He squeeze her hand tight, and took a fortifying breath. “Okay. Dinner.”

It took some rummaging in her bags, but Shuri pieced together an outfit and Mandla let her use the bathroom first. She took a fast shower and changed, then let him use the room while she gathered her braids into a top knot.

When Mandla came out, he’d changed into more traditional Jabari clothes. If she was honest, there was something rather hot about all that leather.

"Am I all right like this?" she asked. She was in black Wakandan clothes, but if she had to run out and find something fur and leather, she would. 

“You look good,” he said with a smile. “It’s just fine.”

She nodded, then step forward and curled her hands around his arms. "I'm right here with you.”

He hugged her. “Thank you.”

They held hands as they walked through the halls to the dining room. M'Baku and his wife, Sanaa, were already there and greeted them warmly. Their children were at the other end of the table, and they all scrambled out of their chairs to nearly tackle Mandla. He laughed as he tried to hug all four of them at once.

Sanaa waved for her to sit. “They’ll be at that a while.”

M’Baku looked at her. “I understand your brother is coming to the funeral.”

"If it will not be an imposition," she replied. "He would like to pay his respects.”

“I called the Queen while you were napping,” Sanaa said. “I didn’t want the two of them to waste half the afternoon dick measuring.”

Shuri smothered a snort. "That's probably for the best.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” M’Baku grumped. “We get along great.”

Sanaa patted his arm. "Of course you do, dear.”

Mandla had gotten the kids resettled and returned to his seat. “What are you feeding them? They’re enormous.”

"Of course they are," M'Baku said. "They're mine.”

“They eat the things you send from America,” Sanaa said. “Like fake bacon.”

“It’s revolting,” M’Baku told them, reaching to fill his plate with the food that had just been set on the table. “But the kids do love it.”

Shuri had sent the bacon as a joke, but it was nice that the kids enjoyed it. She waited for Sanaa and Mandla to serve themselves before taking her portion. It was Jabari comfort food. Lots of cheese and starchy root vegetables, similar to the stuff Mandla made for her when she was sick or upset.

The last time she’d been here, the family had been much more stiff and formal. But now everyone was relaxed an companionable, if a bit subdued. It made her miss her own family. She didn’t get home much. Sanaa asked them about the Outreach programs and M'Baku and Mandla talked about various members of the tribe and what they were up to. Shuri found herself wondering why they'd been so scared of coming back. Of course, she supposed it was the somberness of the occasion that headed off any pestering about weddings.

There was some sort of sherbet for dessert, which Shuri would have been happy to have as her entire meal. She'd had gelato in Paris and it didn't hold a candle to Jabari ice cream.

“You know, we make it with our snow,” M’Baku said. “That’s why you can’t make good ice cream down in the lowlands. You don’t have snow.”

“That’s isn’t true,” Sanaa said like she she’d said it a hundred times.

“Woman, will you let me entertain our guests?” he replied.

“Sorry, sorry. Don’t forget to tell her about the gorilla that was seven feet tall.”

“Ooh,” Mandla said, “How long has that trip where he got stranded on the mountain gotten by now? Ten days? Fifteen?”

“At least,” replied the oldest boy at the end of the table. “There’s a cheetah in it now.”

"Careful brother," M'Baku said. "Or I'll start telling some of your stories. How tall was that tree you ran into?”

You could feel the mood change—like the temperature dropped. For a moment, Mandla looked like someone had hit him. Then he abruptly stood up. “I think I’m done eating. I’m—I’m going to back to my room.” He turned on his heel and walked out.

M'Baku looked mystified, as if he had no idea what he'd said wrong. Shuri and Sanaa exchanged a glance. She was probably supposed to go and follow Mandla. This was between him and his brother and it wasn't her place to get in the middle.

Well, she'd always been bad at "should."

"There was no tree," she said, staring down M'Baku. "He went down and fought in the battle and got stabbed in the side with a spear. And he was so terrified of you finding out and being mad at him that he snuck out of the hospital with a hole in his side and walked his stubborn Jabari ass up this mountain, then lied to you for a decade." She stood up. "Tell _that_ story at your next get-together.”

M’Baku looked genuinely stunned. “I had no. . . he _walked_? How?” Shuri had never asked him about that walk, and he’d never volunteered, but she knew how long and hard it was when she and her mother and Nakia had done it, and none of them had been seriously wounded.

"He is stronger than you give him credit for," she said. "Your grandmother made up the tree story to cover for him and you have mocked him for it ever since.”

“Okay, you have to admit the original story _was_ kind of. . .” Whatever was on Shuri’s face cause him to trail off. He sighed. “He was fifteen. He had no business being at war.”

"I was sixteen and fought. Our country was at stake. The world was at stake. You expected him to sit at home and knit?”

“I expected him to do as he was told. What’s the cut off, then?” He gestured at the end of the table. “Should I have armed my six year old?”

She spread her hands. "Ah, the slippery slope argument, the last resort of someone who knows he's wrong and wants to make it someone else's fault. No, in a civilized society, you don't arm children. But you don't treat teenagers like children, either. Do you really think he was the only fifteen year old on that field?”

“In my army he was.”

“Do we need to have this discussion at the dinner table?” Sanaa asked, giving a significant look in the direction of the children. Then she looked at her husband. “Perhaps it’s time you and your brother had a conversation.”

He blew out a frustrated breath. “Perhaps.” He looked over at Shuri. “You’ve said your peace. But you are not yet a member of this family and there a limit to how much insult I will tolerate at my own damn dinner table.”

She was frankly surprised she'd gotten away with as much as she had. So she reined in her temper and forced herself to incline her head. She looked at Sanaa. "Dinner was delicious, thank you both for your hospitality." Then she pushed her chair back and left the room.

*

Mandla was sure Shuri would follow him—and part of him felt like a jerk for leaving her there—but he really just didn’t want to talk to anyone. He left her a note that said he was fine and going for a climb. 

The was a massive gorilla carved from the mountain that served as the support for his brother’s formal throne room. When he was a child, he’d loved climbing up it and sitting on its head. It was a dangerous climb up sheer rock face, one both his mother and grandmother scolded him for the first time he was caught. Which had only made him more determined to get up there. 

When he did, the very next time, his father found him, and told him how he’d do it all the time when he was a kid—and it had made Gramma just as mad 40 years ago.

Seemed a good place to sit.

He was out there almost half an hour, and starting to debate going inside, when Shuri's head popped over the bottom ledge. "Of course you hide up here. The most remote place in a remote mountain. Do I need to build you a tree house back home?”

“This is not remote. The palace is right up there.” He pointed. “I could show you remote.” It was, however, very, very hard to get to. He climbed down to help her up.

She was wearing claws and hiking boots she'd designed to help her on harder climbs. But she still let him brace her and pull her up the last few feet. "I gotta get to work on anti gravity boots.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry I left you.”

"I understand. Sometimes you need to get away or you're going to say something you regret.”

“I mean, it’s not. . . we were sharing dumb stories. If it had actually happened it would have been worthy of a lifetime of mockery. But I doubt I’d see that tree in my nightmares.”

She tugged her coat tighter around herself. "I have nightmares about Killmonger.”

He looked over at her. “Did he hurt you?” Funny that they never talked about the battle where they’d first met.

"Nothing that left a mark. But he was going to stab me. T'Challa stopped him, tackled him down to the trains and fought him.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “It was an awful day.”

"It was," she agreed. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she said quietly, "I may have said some things to your brother after you left.”

“Well, you haven’t sent down the mountain, so they couldn’t have been that bad.”

"I suppose not." After a pause, she added, "He won't tease you about the tree anymore.”

He looked at her again. “Why?”

Shuri cleared her throat and glanced up. "'Cause he knows you got stabbed with a spear.”

“Shuri!”

"It's been ten years! You're both adults and this clearly bothers you. It was way past time he found out the truth.”

“Being humorously teased about how I’m stupid is better than being lectured about how I’m stupid.”

The look she gave him was one he usually only saw aimed at one of the trouble making teens at the center. "Being humorously teased made the room go quiet and you to flee the table. At least lecturing could be argued with." She bit her lip. "I also argued with him.”

“Now I’m _really_ surprised he didn’t send you down the mountain.”

"He sent me away from the table. After Sanaa settled us down. I hope she and my mother have met, they'd get along.”

He was quiet a long moment. “The lecture won’t be wrong. It was stupid.”

Shuri reached over and put a hand on his knee. "It was also brave.”

He put his hand over hers. “Thank you. I’d think that was the worst day of my life, except that I got to meet you.”

She shook her head, looking shy. "I'm not sure about that. But I am glad you made it through.”

“I’m sure,” he said. “You’re one of the best things that has ever happened to me.”

"Thank you," she said quietly. 

“I don’t know how I’d face this without you,” he said. “I would have had no one left on this earth who understood me.” It sounded miserably lonely. And also like an unavoidable future.

"I'm honored to be the person that knows you," Shuri told him. "You're an amazing person.”

He put his arm around her. “So are you.”

She leaned into him and they sat in silence a moment. Then she said, "Can we go inside now?”

He chuckled. “Yes. You were brave to come up here.”

"You know me. Snow and sheer cliff faces are no match to my stubbornness.”

“Come on,” he said as he helped her down. “I’ll show you the palace spa.”

Her almost indignant, "There's a _spa_?" was loud enough to hear over the growing wind.

“I told you,” he said when they reached the bottom, “We have them all over. Do I need to go ask Sanaa if she can lend you a bathing suit?” Much as he did not want to converse with his brother right now.

Either she read the thought on his face, or knew him well enough to guess it, because she frowned and shook her head. "No." Her expression changed to the one that meant she was thinking rapidly. "I should have something I can cobble together in my bags.”

“I am getting serious deja vu right now,” he said with a laugh.

She grinned. "I do have a theory that life is a big mobeus strip.”

She never failed to cheer him up.


	8. Chapter 8

Mandla got his bathing suit and t-shirt while she rooted through her suitcase, then waited while she took a bundle of items into the bathroom. She came out a few minutes later wearing a white shift that hung to mid thigh. “Ready?"

That. . . looked like something that was going to be transparent when wet. Which made his brain go all sorts of places he didn’t want it to, and had been trying to keep it from for years. “Right. Uh. Ready.”

She gestured for him to go first and he lead her out of the room and down the hall, descending a few flights of stairs to the palace spa. Part of him had been a little nervous M'Baku would be here decompressing, but the room was blissfully empty.

It was a serene space, carved out of the rock but full of Jabari wood—which was about as hard _as_ the rock. It smelled like wood and the herbal oils they put in the baths, and soothing music played from speakers embedded in the rock. It was one of the most relaxing places in the palace.

Shuri looked delighted, walking to the closest hot tub and swirling her hand through the warm water. Her little groan made his brain try to go to those bad places again. Then she carefully eased herself into the water. 

The best thing for him to do was to just get in the water and find something else to think about.

He settled on the other side of the tub and let the hot water soak into his muscles. For a while they were silent, both lost in their own thoughts. Shuri broke the silence first. "Is there anything I need to know about the funeral? Customs or ceremonies I might trip over?”

“There is a lot of yelling,” he said. “That might startle you if you’re not prepared for it. Also, my family will be barefoot, no matter how cold or snowy. You don’t have to be,” he added.

She smiled. "I'm torn between trying to prove something and the fear of frost bite.”

“I leave that up to you. But no one will expect it.”

"All right." She studied him a moment, then poked him with her foot. "How are you doing?”

“I am admittedly finding this hot tub more enjoyable than sitting on the head of a stone gorilla.”

"See? Your wimpy fake fiancee has good ideas.”

“Shuri, ‘I have good ideas’ could be your life motto.”

“Maybe. But I can still occasionally feel out of my depth.”

He stretched his arms along the rim of the tub. “Do you feel out of your depth here?”

"i do," she admitted. "A bit.”

“Because our culture is different, or because my family is obnoxious? Both are valid.” He sighed. “Or because we’re maintaining a charade?”

"Because your culture is different," she said. "And because I'm worried about you and not sure how to help.”

“You are helping just by being here.” 

She tilted her head, looking skeptical. "I'm really more used to proactive helping. Are you sure there's nothing nanite based I can do?”

“When your father died, what did you want most?”

After a moment she said, "Someone to hug me.”

“See?” he replied. Then he sighed. “Gramma was always that person for me. Didn’t matter what was wrong. She could always make me feel safe."

Hesitantly, Shuri shifted from her seat and moved to sit next to him, curling her arm around his shoulders. The motion lifted her enough out of the bubbling water to confirm the thing she was wear had, in fact, become someone see-through, and for a second his brain stopped working. He needed to stop noticing things like that. He needed to not let his thoughts go down that path. Because if he did, he was going to lose her, and then he would have nothing.

Sometimes grief was steady ache, and sometimes it felt like a knife in the gut. He shouldn’t pull her close, shouldn’t put his arms around her, not until he figured out what the hell was wrong with him. But he had to, right then, or he’d drown.

She rubbed his back and stroked his hair, holding him tightly. He half thought he imagined it when he felt her press a kiss to his temple. He whispered her name, his voice still somehow managing to crack at the end.

Her arms tightened and she shifted enough to brush her mouth against his. He stilled, but every fiber of his being wanted to kiss her back. They breathed the same air a moment, and he could feel her tense, probably ready to apologize and scramble back to the other side of the tub and back into their safe existence. He should let her.

He had never, ever, been good at doing what he _should_.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I shouldn’t-"

He didn’t want to hear the rest of that sentence, not yet, so he gave in, and he kissed her. She sighed and kissed him back, arms wrapping around his shoulders so her hands could cup the back of his head. It had been a long time since he’d kissed someone. Since before her. But this was perfect. They fit together perfectly. Right now he wasn’t going to think, just feel.

She melted into him and the kiss took off. Mandla wrapped his arms around her, dragging her partially into his lap, and she made a little sound of surprise into his mouth, but made no attempt to move away.

“Hey, hey, hey, not in my baths.” Of all the times for his damn brother to show up.

Shuri sighed deeply and hid her face in his shoulder, even as she eased herself off his lap.

It was ironic, as they were supposed to be engaged and his brother would think this was absolutely normal and not an enormous moment they’d just had interrupted. No reason to be embarrassed. He scrambled for bravado, or at least nonchalance. “Give us a minute and we’ll get out of your way.” He was proud of how steady his voice sounded. It was a trick he’d always been able to pull.

M'Baku was grinning, but inclined his head and backed out of the room without any mocking. Probably a miracle in itself.

He nudged Shuri and she lifted her head, glancing back at the doorway before leaning back. She studied him a moment, eyes darting back and forth, then she offered a little smile. “Well."

“Hi,” he said in reply, letting himself for once fully admit how beautiful she was.  
She grinned, chuckling a little. “Hi."

“We should go back to our room, he’ll be back in a minute, I promise.”

"Of course." She moved farther away, climbing out of the tub. He got a very explicit view of her figure through the shift before she wrapped herself in a towel.

He took a deep, fortifying breath—and ordered his body to _behave_ —before climbing out and grabbing a towel himself. From the hallway, M’Baku yelled, “Are you done yet?”

Mandla was just going to ignore him, but Shuri turned to the door and yelled back, "No, he's not as a quick a shot as you.”

Mandla choked on the very air he was breathing. M’Baku replied, “You have a serious problem with sass, Princess.”

She arranged the towel so no one would get an eyeful of anything when they walked back to their room. "I assure you, it's not a problem for me at all.”

Chuckling, Mandla pushed the door open, ignored his brother entirely, and ushered Shuri out.

"I really think he's warming up to me," she said as he steered her back to their room.

“Oh, undoubtedly. That level of banter is a true sign of affection.”

"I knew he and I spoke the same language.”

They reached their room, and he held open the door for her. “If you want the shower. . .”

She waited until he'd closed the door behind them before leaning in to kiss him again. She had to stand on her toes, and he lifted her a little, holding some of her weight. The kiss got hot and intense even faster than the one before. She hooked her legs around his thighs and he heard her groan when she brushed against the evidence of his body definitely _not_ behaving.

They had to stop. They had to talk about this. But she felt so good, and he was so tired of hurting. He took a couple steps back until he was sitting on the bed. She fit on his lap perfectly naturally.

When her ass hit his thighs, she lifted her head, breathing hard from the intensity of the kiss. He cupped her cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb over her lips. He wanted her as much as he’d ever wanted anyone. As much as he probably ever would. “We. . .we shouldn’t.” 

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know. It's bad timing. You're in mourning. . .”

He’d actually totally forgotten about that part. One was supposed to refrain from such activities during the time between death and burial of a loved one. “Also it’s a big deal.”

"Well, yes, that, too." She stroked his cheek. "I suppose we can wait a bit longer.”

He nodded. “And maybe talk?”

"I'm usually good at talking.”

“I just. . . this could go very sideways. Which, if I’m honest, scares me.” He couldn’t picture his life without her. It would be colder and darker than the mountains, that was for sure. 

"It scares me too," she admitted quietly, resting her forehead on his. "But I would like to try to sort it out.”

“You are my best friend. I couldn’t bear to lose you.” That was, he realized, now an understatement. Friendship was no longer an adequate word for what he felt for her.

"You won’t."

He stroked his hand down over her neck. “I think this is a line that, once crossed, we will never be able to get back over.”

"Probably not. But I don't know that either of us will want to go back over, either.”

His eyes searched hers. “So we’re talking about making our charade. . . real?”

She cupped a hand around the side of his neck, a sign of affection he'd seen her brother do to her. "I think, emotionally, it's probably been real for a while. Don't you agree?”

He shuddered as he exhaled. She always could see right through him. “Yes.”

"Good." She kissed him gently, then got up. "Sex can wait, but I'm going to kiss you all I want, okay?”

He grinned. “I think I can go along with that.”

"With that settled, I am going to go shower.”

Mandla nodded. “It’s getting late. Tomorrow starts before sunrise, so we might want to consider getting some sleep.”

She looked skyward as she went into the bathroom. "Why does everything have to be at dawn?”

“We had to leave here at 2AM for when your brother got married,” he replied.

"I wish we had some gods that loved twilight," she called through the door. "I do not like mornings.” The shower went on before he could reply. 

He found himself some dry clothes to change into, and was looking for his notebook when there was a knock on the door. He sighed and opened it, finding one of his brother’s lieutenants on the other side. “You will have an audience with the Great Gorilla in the throne room in one hour.”

It was such a strange summons he didn’t know what to do other than just nod, and the man turned and strode away.

Shuri exited the bathroom a few minutes later, dressing in soft cotton pajamas and carefully squeezing water out of her braids. "So I was thinking I might-" she stopped. "What's wrong?”

“I have been formally summoned to the throne room.”

She considered a moment. "Do I need to rig up a weapon you can hide?”

“Eh, I’m bigger than him,” he said, something that was factually true but you probably couldn’t get M’Baku to admit that if his life depended on it. “And younger.”

"All right. I apologize if my sass has gotten you in trouble.”

“I’ll handle it,” he said with a sigh. “But thank you. I like your sass.”

"Good." She kissed his cheek. "You're stuck with it.”

At the appointed time, he hiked up to the throne room to see what the hell it was his brother wanted. M’Baku had a row of his guards lined up along the side of the throne room, and he sat on his throne looking as intimidating as possible. Suddenly Mandla was angry. Were they really going to play some sort of dominance game now, the night before Gramma’s funeral?

He reached the end of the aisle and bit his tongue. His brother studied him a moment. "Mandla of the Jabari. It has come to my attention that you fought and were injured in the battle against the False King. And that after said injury you climbed the mountain to Gorilla City for fear of bringing shame to your family."

That wasn't exactly true but before his could say anything to correct him, the guards started grunting in unison.

M'Baku stood. "As leader of the Jabari, it is my honor to bestow upon you the Mark of the Gorilla." He nodded to one of his lieutenants, who stepped forward to take M'Baku's staff and hand hm a mask and necklace. M'Baku stepped down to Mandla's level and placed the necklace around his neck and the mask in his hands. Then he stepped back and tapped his chest. "You have my respect and thanks for your courage.”

There was a lump in his throat, and he couldn’t find the words to speak. He tapped his own chest in response. “Thank you,” he finally. 

M'Baku nodded, then reached out and pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you, brother,” Mandla said, more touched than he had ever been. “It is an honor.”

"You're welcome. Don't ever do something that stupid again.”

Mandla laughed. “Oh, there it is. I knew you had to get a scold in there somewhere.”

"It's far milder than you would have gotten at the time." M'Baku rubbed his head affectionately. "You have a hell of a woman in your corner, little brother.”

He grinned. “I do, don’t I?”

“Before I was worried about what was taking so long, and why you never came home together. Wondering if there was something wrong and you just didn’t want to admit it.” 

That was a little too close to the truth for his comfort. “And now you’re not?”

"Not after tonight, no. Between her defending your honor and the make out in the bath seems like everything is working nicely.”

He felt his face heat. “Sorry about the bath.”

Chuckling, he waved a dismissive hand. "It happens. Emotions are running high at a time like this. It's good to find comfort.”

“It’s been a very long day that started on the other side of the world. Up is down and all that.”

"Yes. Go get some rest. I'll see you in the morning.”

He clapped his brother’s arm. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

The guards all saluted him as he walked past, which was equal parts embarrassing and awesome. He made his way back to his room to find Shuri cross legged on the bed, materials and tools spread out before her, tinkering with something that looked like a cuff bracelet.

She looked up when he entered. "How did it go?”

“He, um. . .” Mandla cleared his thought. “Gave me our highest military honor.” He held out the mask to show her.

Her jaw dropped and she gingerly climbed off the bed to look at it. “Congratulations?"

He showed her the necklace as well. “It is kind of a big deal. I will wear it tomorrow.”

"We have something similar," she said, running her fingers along the beads. "Your brother is one for big statements isn't he?”

“Always. But it was. . . I was very touched. Honored, even. It’s something I’d hidden and been afraid or ashamed of for so long.”

"I'm happy for you, then." She rubbed his arm. "Glad I didn't get you in any trouble.”

Something awful occurred to him. “I’ll be expected to fully participate in the ceremony now.” 

She raised her brows. "Were you not going to before?”

“There are parts that are reserved for warriors.”

"Ah. Well, it's just ceremonial, isn't it? You can shout and beat your chest with the best of them.”

He sighed forcefully. “There is a significant part where we are shirtless and covered in white paint.”

Shuri put a hand on his shoulder and said solemnly, "I promise to contain myself.”

He made a face. “I don’t _like_ being shirtless.” Something that now sounded ridiculous even to his own ears. Some habits died hard, he supposed. “Never mind, I’m sure it will be fine. I’m going to go take a shower and then we really should get some sleep.”

She looked uncertain, but didn't press. "All right. I'll try to unearth the bed.”

He leaned over and kissed her temple, and then went into the bathroom.


	9. Chapter 9

Shuri stared at the closed door and listened to the water come on. She didn’t know if she should push him on the shirt thing. She’d certainly noticed it over the years, but chalked it up to a personality quirk. 

She carefully packed up her equipment, tucking it away in her travel bag to play with later, then tugged down the covers to slide into bed. She listened to the shower run and turn off and the soft sounds of him getting ready.

He came out a few moments later. He went around to the other side of the bed and commented, “This feels way more awkward than during our nap.” 

She smiled. "Do you want to make a pillow wall?”

“No,” he said, sounding amused. “Unless you want to. I did almost squish you.”

"I happen to like cuddling," she told him, tugging the sheet back in invitation.

He climbed in the bed. “It’s just we’ve recently opened this can of worms that makes me wonder if it will be contained to that.”

"Are you concerned we're going to _accidentally_ have sex?”

He huffed. “No, probably not. I’m just full of stupid right now.”

Chuckling, she lay back and cuddled next to him. "We'll blame it on you being tired.”

He turned off the lights, and rolled over on his side to face her. “If I kissed you,” he whispered. “Would one of us have the wherewithal to stop?”

She considered a moment. "Probably not? I would absolutely trade a good night's sleep for good sex.”

“And then get hexed by the ancestors.”

"I bet your grandma would forgive you." She rubbed her foot on his. "Are you suggesting no kissing? Or should I move to the couch to be safe?”

“No! No, if anyone has to move I will do it.” He flopped back on his back and put his hands over his face. “I don’t know how to do or handle any of this.” 

"Oh, that's too bad, I read the manual while you were gone." He gave her a sharp look and she grinned at him. "It's all right, Mandla. Just talk to me. Or, just turn the lights off and we'll sleep. Nothing has to happen tonight.”

“I mean _everything_. You and grief and my brother being nice to me and this ritual tomorrow. I know the shirt thing is stupid but it’s just the last thing in a list of things. I’m so turned around I don’t know which way is up right now.”

Shuri didn't like problems she couldn't fix and most of the things he'd listed she really couldn't do a thing about. Other than be here and offer hugs and comfort as needed. The last one, however. . . "Can I ask why you don't like having your shirt off?”

He sighed. “I have a very hideous double-sided scar.”

"Oh." For a moment that didn't make sense, no one had scars unless they wanted to. Then she remembered he'd ditched the hospital to climb the mountain and wouldn't have had time to have skin weaving done. "Oh! I can fix that!" She tossed the sheets back and went to her work bag, rummaging in it.

Mandla sat up. “Wait, what?”

"I think I packed it. . ." She hunted to the bottom of the bag and found her medical kit. "Aha! Yes. Never throw anything away, that's my motto." She stood and went back to the bed, unfolding the kit. "I have skin weave materials. We can set it up and by the time you wake up you shouldn't even notice where it was.”

He put his hands over where she knew it probably was. “I don’t think you can fix it with a first aid kit. It wasn’t a slice with a kitchen knife.”

She frowned at him and put her hands on her hips. "I saw the spear that stabbed you, I know what a major wound looks like.”

“Climbing a mountain with it held together with tape didn’t do it any favors.” He sounded remarkably defensive.

Eyeing him, she decided to pull out the big gun. "Do you trust me?”

His shoulders slumped a little, and he quietly said, “Of course I do.”

"Then let me do my thing." She pointed to his side. "Worst case you're no worse off then you were.”

“Well now I feel like a science experiment.”

She blew out a frustrated breath. "Mandla, you finally have a problem I can fix and you won't even let me try!”

“I don’t want you to see it!” he snapped back.

Her mouth snapped close and they glared at each other for a moment. "I have seen scars before," she said quietly. "It's not going to change how I feel about you.”

He rubbed his eyes. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She braced her fists on her hips. "Who? Do I know her?”

“Shuri. . .”

She scowled. "I don't give a shit about scars or lack there of. I like you because you're funny and smart and sensitive and you make me starchy cheese goo when I'm sick and rub my back when I've been hunched over my work too long and you can order me a meal anywhere in the world and I'll love it. If you don't want me to see it, fine, I'll fix it with my eyes closed. But it clearly bothers you and I have a painless way of removing it and I really wish you'd let me.”

“I don’t think doing it blind is a good idea,” he said. Then he sighed again, and pulled up his shirt to show her. It was a keloid scar, bumpy and jagged and bigger then the original wound, so much darker than his skin it was almost purple. It was, of she was honest, quite a nasty scar. She knew a lot of Wakandans were prone to scar like that, and she’d seen it used to great affect for decorative scarification. But their medical care was such that no one ever got one on a wound or surgery. She also probably needed more equipment than she had to truly remove it. Then he quietly added, “The back is worse.”

"Exit wounds usually are," she told him gently, then muttered to herself, "All right." Ideally, she'd whisk him back to her lab to do a full reconstruction. But the weave would smooth out the rough edges and make the area uniform. Under the ceremonial war paint it would be hard to see.

She smeared analgesic gel over the scar and the area around it, then prepped the weave. Focusing on the edges and the worst of the bumps, she carefully covered the area in skin weave fabric and zapped the whole thing with an IPL laser to set it.

"Roll over?" She made a point of making it a question. He nodded without complaint and did as she asked.

The scar back here was, indeed, worse. And bigger. She repeated the process on his back, then, with his help, wrapped his whole torso in a spare sheet to keep it all in place. "Comfortable? Nothing itchy or burning?”

“It’s good,” he said. He took a slow breath and looked up at her. “Thank you.”

"You're welcome. It probably won't be totally new smooth skin, but it should be improved enough you can hide it under the paint. If you want any more we can work on it back in my lab.”

“A little bit of scar is okay.”

She nodded, packed her stuff up and washed her hands before getting back into bed. "Was that our first fight?”

He chuckled. “I think so. Seems like we did okay.”

"I guess so." She rested her head on his shoulder. "It didn't change anything.”

“Well, I didn’t think after all these years you’d run screaming into the night.”

"Some girl seriously changed her mind about you after seeing it?”

“I mean, it’s not like she told me I was hideous and ran screaming into the night either. But I swear, I could see her recoil. It didn’t help that I had to tell her the fucking tree story.”

So it was probably a Jabari woman. "You know, I have friends in the CIA. . .”

“I don’t blame her. It was shitty, yeah, but it also is a really ugly scar. If you’re going to have sex with someone, you do need to find their body attractive to you.”

She shrugged. "I think if all it takes is a bad scar to turn you off, you have your priorities fucked up.”

“Well, that might be true. Didn’t make it sting any less.”

"I'm sure." She rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry.”

He shifted so he could put his arm around her, pulling her against his chest. There was something very intimate about resting her cheek on his bare skin. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m yours now.”

"Damn right you are.”

He sighed contentedly and rubbed her back as they drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, she bounded out of bed, eager to see how the weave had worked. Mandla was still asleep but cracked an eye open when she started untying the blanket bandaged she'd rigged up.

“Would it be easier if I sat up?” he asked, his voice still rough with sleep.

Even distracted by science, she found that voice hot. "Probably but I was trying not to bother you.”

“Too late.” He sat up. “And now I’m eager to see it.”

She got the blanket off and fetched a washcloth to wipe the remains of the weave and goo off him. Once clean, she could see the worst of the ridges were gone and the scar had faded to something closer to his skin color, though shiny and a different texture. It was a bit smaller, in her opinion, as well. 

He looked down at it a moment, then got up and went to the mirror to look at both sides. He grinned and she knew pushing the issue had been a good idea. “This looks like a dignified warrior’s scar,” he told her.

"It does," she agreed. "Very sexy.”

He turned towards her, his expression unguardedly hopeful. “You think?”

She grinned, because really, he was adorable. "I do.” 

He came back to the bed and sat next to her. The scar, she realized, had kept her from learning just how good he looked without a shirt on—he had a lot muscles. It was very distracting. Tilting her head, she studied him a bit more. And was then unable to resist reaching out to run a finger along the mark. He sucked in a breath and his abs twitched. “Proud of your work?” he asked.

"A bit." She curled her fingers around his waist. "No matter how perfect something is, it can always been tweaked.”

“I really hope you don’t think about science every time I take my shirt off now.”

"In my defense, I'm pretty much always thinking about science." She met his gaze. "But you're pretty distracting.”

“Bet I could get you to stop thinking about science for a minute,” he said.

His tone made her shiver a little. "What are we betting?”

He stroked his fingers along her neck, and whispered, “Is there anything you want?”

"Several things, but we seem to be headed towards them regardless.”

“I’m terrible at gambling,” he said, and then he kissed her.

Shuri curled her other arm around him, leaning into the kiss. This was deep and intense, as it had been the night before. But the urgency had been replaced with careful attention and skill. She didn’t know who moved first, but they tumbled back onto the bed without breaking the kiss, and his hands roamed over her.

One hand slid beneath her pajama top and she arched, lifting her arms so he could tug it up and off. Then they were pressed bare skin to bare skin, which had her shuddering all over again. He lifted his head to look at her, something reverent in his eyes. “You are so beautiful.”

She felt herself blush a little. He wasn't the first to tell her that. But he was definitely the first to say it like a prayer. Not sure what to say, she tugged him down to kiss her. He cupped one of her breasts in his hand, thumb running over the nipple and sending another shudder through her. She gasped into his mouth, running her hands down his back to cup his ass, squeezing and pulling him tight against her. He responded with a growl, a sound she felt as much as heard. They were only wearing pajamas, it wouldn’t take much to get them off.

Encouraged by the growl, she worked her hand under the waistband of his pajama pants, running her nails along his skin. 

He lifted his head, breathing hard. “I want you. So much. But we should stop.”

She groaned and sighed. "I know, I know.”

“I need to go get ready.”

"All right. Do I meet you somewhere or just follow the crowd?”

“Sanaa will show you where to go. If you come with me I can leave you with her. You will be with the family.” He paused. “If you want to. You can go be with your brother if you want to.”

A day ago, she might have chosen to be with T'Challa. But it had been a very eventful twenty four hours. "If we're making this real then we should go all the way. I'll stand with your family.”

She could tell by the look on his face that it had been the right answer. “Thank you.”

"Any time." She nudged him. "Now let me up so we can get dressed.”

He kissed her nose. “Yes, ma’am.”

They took their turns in the bathroom. She dressed in the traditional funeral garb Nakia had gotten her. It involved a corset, much like the outfit she'd worn at T'Challa's coronation, but this one was more decorative and she left it loose. Based on Mandla's look when she emerged from the bathroom, he approved. He had on Jabari ceremonial garb, which involved a lot of leather and fur and wood. And the grass skirts that only they could pull off.

"You have amazing legs," she told him, because now she could.

He grinned at her. “Why thank you.”

She kissed him lightly, then took his hand as they ventured out into the palace halls. He took her as far as his brother's rooms, where he left her with his sister-in-law while he and M’Baku went off. He gave her a very public kiss before he went.

Sanaa gave her an amused smile when they were alone. "It's nice that they're getting along."

"Yes," Shuri agreed. "Though Mandla's not quite sure what to make of it.”

“I think M’Baku has missed him more that it ever occurred to him he would.”

She suspected T'Challa missed her more than he let on as well. "Now that the London office is running smoothly, we can try to visit more often.”

“I think everyone thought you two would be home more,” Sanaa said carefully. “We thought it would be split time, between here and the outreach. I am not sure my husband would have agreed to the Arrangement if he’d known.”

Shuri also chose her words carefully, not quite sure how much to tell the other woman. "I think Mandla needed a little time to live outside of his brother's shadow.”

“I certainly seems to have done him good.”

"It has. He's writing a book about his adventures.”

“He is a very good writer, was even when he was young. I guess there’s a larger audience out there, isn’t there?”

"Much," Shuri said. "Just the idea of a mainstream book from a Wakandan perspective. . . He'll have agents and publishers fighting over him.”

“Are you going to raise your children out there?” Sanaa winced as soon as she said it. “Sorry, that was super nosy, I’m sorry.”

Shuri wasn't quite sure how to answer it, so she went for changing the subject. "Is there anything I need to know about the funeral ceremony?”

“There’s a lot of yelling.”

"Any dancing?”

“We are still Wakandan,” she said with a smile. “We, as a nation, can’t order takeout without dancing.”

"I'm going to use that next time I try to explain our culture to someone.”

“There is a part of the ceremony for mourning, and then there is a part for celebrating.”

It sounded very similar to the funerals she'd been to. "I think I can handle that.”

“Good, because we should probably get going.”

"Of course. Lead the way.”


	10. Chapter 10

The funeral began with a procession across one of those utterly terrifying footbridges, and then a gathering on a snowy mountainside leading into a cliff. She saw her brother and Nakia, and their pair of Doras, as she went to stand where Sanaa directed her near the front. Shuri would describe the sounds as more chanting than yelling, but there was a lot of it, and it was loud.

The Jabari had a thing about crying in public, something she didn’t get as it was well-accepted science among the rest of Wakanda that bottling up your emotions was not healthy. But, she figured that explained the yelling.

His grandmother was wrapped up in many layers of beautiful cloth, and then lowered off the cliffside. They buried their dead in tombs carved into the side of the mountain. Mandla and M’Baku—barefoot, shirtless, with their backs painted white like a silverback gorilla—climbed down along side to put her in the tomb. It seemed a very private, intimate family moment. The rest of the crowd sang a haunting song that they clearly all knew by heart.

At the end of the song, Sanaa took a step forward, then stopped and turned back, holding her hand out to Shuri. Slightly concerned she was about to get tossed off the mountain, she none the less reached out and took her hand, stepping forward with her.

“When you come up from giving your loved one to the mountain,” Sanaa said quietly. “Your living family is waiting for you. To guide you to look forward.” She smiled at Shuri. “I’m fudging the rules.”

Shuri nodded, and smiled. "I think he'll appreciate it.”

The men climbed up over the edge, and when Sanaa reached to help M’Baku up, Shuri reach to help Mandla. His eyes were red, and her wrapped her in his arms. She hugged him tightly, rubbing his head and murmuring comfort.

As they walked back, he held her hand tightly. Their priestess said a blessing and then there was an uplifting song that was accompanied by dancing—not anything formal, simply the official segue from saying goodbye to the departed, and celebrating her life.

Shuri danced with him, coaxing a smile from him as she tugged and teased him along with the music. He rested his forehead against hers and said, “Thank you.”

"You're very welcome," she said sincerely.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” It wasn’t much more than a whisper, his voice full of emotion.

She smiled and touched his cheek. "We make a very good team.”

He put an arm around her. “Now we get to go inside where it’s warm.”

"Oh, thank Bast.”

Everyone made their way back across the terrifying bridges, and into the palace’s enormous reception hall. There was food and music, and the walls were covered with portraits and photos of Mandla’s grandmother throughout her life. 

"She was very beautiful," she commented to Mandla after her brought her some hot coffee and a little plate of snacks.

“She was,” he replied with a smile. “It’s surreal, though. I still expect to turn around and see her.”

"I still, sometimes, expect to see my father. Or call to tell him when something good has happened.”

“I was so young when my parents died. She was. . . the central figure in my life.”

Shuri reached over and squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts.”

He lifted her hand and kissed her palm. “It’s not the first stab wound you’ve helped me through.”

"I do not have any tech for this," she told him. "But I'll help how i can.”

“Your tech helped plenty. I received many compliments on my scar.”

She grinned. "Oh good." She glanced down at it. "It does look nice under the paint.”

“I think I might leave it. That day changed me. Seems right there is a mark. One I can be proud of an not ashamed.”

"There is no shame in scars. I know Dora who take pride in theirs and will yell at medics who try to erase them.”

Mandla looked over her shoulder. “My brother is waving to me. He’s talking to one of my uncles from the obnoxious side of the family and probably needs a rescue.” He kissed the top of her head. “Stay here, you don’t want to get sucked in.”

"Good luck," she said, watching him go.

He wasn’t gone a minute before T’Challa and Nakia found her. She could see them coming by the crowd parting around their Dora.

"Hello brother," she said, lifting her cheek for a kiss. "Sister," she added to Nakia. "Thank you for coming, I believe M'Baku was touched by the offer.”

“It was interesting to see how our funeral rites differ, and are the same,” T’Challa said.

“Sanaa told me we could bring the children,” Nakia said. “But we decided not to—and clearly that was a good decision as her children are much better behaved than ours.” 

"We would have been peeling them off the cliffside," Shuri confirmed. "Which might have added some levity to the proceedings.” Some of that was probably the Jabari were more strict with their children. The dangerous environment likely necessitated it. Different tribes had different traditions about raising children—if the Jabari were on the strict end, the River Tribe was on the other. Their mother sometimes complained to Shuri about how Nakia let them run wild (and often naked), but to Shuri it sounded like a really nice way to be a toddler.

“Plus I like the peace,” Nakia added. “No one is climbing on me right now.”

"I barely recognize you without Kata hanging off your back and Tayo swaddled to your front.”

“They never stop growing,” she replied. “Kata would rather run everywhere on her own now.”

“And now you have a free arm,” T’Challa said, something about it sounding like part of a longer conversation.

“And I’m happy to fill that arm the very moment our scientists figure out how you can carry and birth it.”

Shuri snorted. "So no more nieces or nephews in my immediate future?”

“I’m going to go get some food,” T’Challa said. “Anyone want anything?”

"More coffee," Shuri told him.

"Something fried," Nakia chimed in. T’Challa nodded and left, taking the Dora with him. Nakia turned back to Shuri. “How are you doing?”

"Good," she said. "It's been hard. I wasn't really sure how to help Mandla. But we've had some good talks.”

She cleared her throat. “I don’t want to pry,” she started. “But I couldn’t help but notice. . .”

Shuri frowned at her, unable to read her expression. She couldn't imagine what in the world could make Nakia look embarrassed. Then something struck her. "Do I have a hickie?

Nakia chuckled. “No, but that does answer my question.”

Ignoring her hot cheeks, she asked, "What was the question going to be?”

“If my instinct was correct that you and Mandla don’t look all that platonic.”

"Ah. No. That's one of the conversations we had.”

Nakia reached out and squeezed her arm. “Good for you.”

"Thank you." She eyed her. "You knew?”

“I have. . . suspected for a while, that there was something else to it, you and him. There’s still a spy in me, I pick up on things. But seeing you two today it seemed much more obvious.”

"We needed time to get to know each other. But he wanted to travel outside of Wakanda and being 'betrothed' to me was the only way he could.”

“I know,” she said. “But clearly things have changed.”

Shuri lifted a shoulder. "He's my best friend. He knows me better than anyone else in the world. It was natural for. . . feelings to grow.”

“It absolutely is. Wake up one day and realize someone is so far under your skin they’re pretty much permanent.”

"I think we've been dancing around it a while but hadn't really had the nerve to speak up.”

“I am really very happy for you.”

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I wouldn't start planning the wedding. But I think we're starting a new chapter in our adventure.”

“You should come home more. We miss you.”

"I miss you all too." She sighed, looking around. "I think we'll be around more. Now that he won't feel like he's lying to his family.”

“Good. I want my kids to know the real you, not just the hologram you.”

"The hologram me is awesome, but I see your point." She grinned. "Mandla and I will take them mountain climbing.”

“Well, that will give your brother a heart attack,” Nakia said, but she was grinning too.

"I think, as auntie, that's my job.”

T’Challa came back, with coffee and fried pastry of some sort, which Nakia happily took from him. “I assume she’s already done the ritual nagging to visit more?”

"Yes, and this time, I agreed it might happen.”

“Perhaps you will come stay with us for a day or two before heading back to California?”

"I'll talk to Mandla, but I think that would be all right.”

“It will make mother happy.” He was apparently pulling out the big guns.

"That's low, brother.”

“And yet factually true.”

"I'll talk to Mandla about a visit," she told him.

“Good.” He hugged her. “We’ve got to get back soon. Going to go pay our respects to M’Baku and then get out of everyone’s way.”

"I'll be in touch and let you know when to expect us," she promised, hugging Nakia before they went to track down M’Baku.

Mandla moved in and out of her orbit as he spoke with people—everyone there seemed to know him and wanted to ask him questions. But she noticed he’d keep drifting back just to touch her or hold her hand for a moment before returning to the crowd.

Eventually, she stopped letting him drift and went with him, standing at his side while he spoke with people. It might not have been her forte, but she had been raised a princess and worked as a sort of diplomat in her role running the outreaches. She could smile and make small talk with the best of them. She could see he was emotionally exhausted, and clearly needed her.

Slowly the crowd thinned, until finally it was just the family. She sat on a couch next to Mandla, his arm behind her shoulders, munching the remains of a veggie tray between them. M'Baku and Sanaa doing much the same opposite them.

“It was a good party,” M’Baku said. “She would have approved.”

Mandla smiled. “I agree.”

"I feel like I could sleep for a week," Sanaa said.  
Shuri munched a carrot. "That's how you know it was a good party.”

“I say tomorrow we do absolutely nothing,” M’Baku said. “That’s an order.”

"You are, as always, a wide and benevolent leader," his wife told him. "For now, I demand you take me to bed.”

“Shall I carry you in a manly fashion?”

"That would be best.”

Their nanny had taken the kids a couple hours ago because they were restless, so M’Baku could just scoop her up. She laughed like she hadn’t expected him to do, and then waved as they left.

"They're very sweet together," Shuri commented.

“They were arranged, too,” Mandla said. “Seems like it works out pretty well sometimes.”

"Clearly." She leaned her head on his shoulder, curling her hand around his. "T'Challa would like us to visit a few days before going back home.”

“I don’t mind,” he said. Then he paused and asked, “Are you going to tell them about us?”

"Nakia mostly sorted it out already. We're not acting particularly platonic.”

“We’re not platonic,” he said. Like punctuation, he turned her face up so he could kiss her.

She hummed happily. "We should go back to our room.”

“Would you like me to carry _you_ in a manly fashion?”

"I mean I wouldn't say _no_ . . .”

He looked surprised, then laughed, and gamely scooped her up. “As you wish, my princess.”

She squealed, giggling he carried her down the hallway and into their room.


	11. Chapter 11

When he reached their room, Mandla deposited Shuri on the bed, making her bounce a bit on the soft mattress, causing another round of giggles.”

He sat on the side of the bed, and watched her. “So. . .”

"So?" She arched a brow. "This is how you seduce me?”

“It’s how I awkwardly try to ask you if you’re tired or you want to wait or what?”

"I am tired, but I know a great way to wake back up.”

He leaned in to kiss her. “If you have more energy afterwards, I’ve done something very wrong.”

"Women often have a surge of energy immediately after orgasm. In fact some of my best id-" He kissed her again, cutting off the flow of words. She sighed, wrapping her arms around him. "I'll tell you later.”

“I can think of all kind of uses for your energy.” He felt around for the fastenings of her corset, then sighed. “Might be easier to stand up, we’ve got a lot of weird stuff on right now.”

She laughed and nodded, letting him haul her upright. Then she turned and presented her back so he could unlace her top. He did it slowly, carefully, pulling each lace all the way out. The bodice slowly sagged and dipped until it slithered down her to pool on the floor. Shuri deliberately wiggled and stretched. She had a tank top under it, and he gently pulled it over her head. Then she felt his fingertips slide gently along her spine.

It made her shiver and she leaned into him. His hands slid down and around her ribs, pulling her close. He had on a wooden breastplate that she thumped against, and he leaned back to take it off. “Hang on, my gear is worse than yours.”

She turned to watch, then help. unfasten the breastplate and ease it off so it didn't get damaged. He was shirtless underneath and she ran her fingers along his chest, tracing the line of the scar she'd fixed. He was in the middle of unstrapping his fur and leather braces, but stopped to watch her. “That is not a scientist’s touch,” he said quietly. “It feels more like a lover’s.”

"Well, I hope I wasn't misinterpreting our intentions here.”

“Just telling you I can feel the difference.” He cupped one of her breasts in his palm, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. “I want you so much.”

"I want you, too," she whispered. Her nipple tightened and she shivered, goosebumps raising on her skin.

He took a breath and let her go, reaching to finish taking off the many pieces of his outfit. She reached for the grass skirt, which had a simple tie, but she was slightly disappointed to find there was a leather one beneath it. He still had a lot of the white paint from the ritual clinging to his skin, and now it was one her hands. “Should wipe that off,” he murmured.

"Want help?" she asked, nudging him towards the bathroom.

“It would certainly be more fun if you helped,” he replied with a grin.

"And I can get all those hard to reach places.”

It could have used a shower, but he seemed to have decided a washcloth would do it. He soaked one in water, and made a brief attempt to reach his back before she took it from him and wiped off the paint herself. He had a beautiful back and shoulders, strong and broad and muscled like a man who climbed mountains.

She got the worst of the paint off - there were a few streaks here and there that would probably need a shower and scrubbing - then she tossed the cloth into the sink and stepped forward to kiss his shoulder. She felt him shudder, and then he turned and kissed her, backing her up against the bathroom wall. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her so he could kiss her better. She wrapped her legs around his hips and cupped the back of his head.

For a few minutes they got lost in the kissing, the way they'd done before. They were both methodical people and seemed to both be intent on memorizing every inch of the other. “Bed,” he said finally, his voice rumbling. “I want to see and touch and taste every part of you.”

She _felt_ his voice, as much as a touch. She tightened her arms and legs around him and he carried her out of the room, setting her down on the bed and coming down of top of her. She kissed him, sucking his lower lip between her teeth, until he left her mouth to explore further. He sat up to pull her leggings off, and then his eyes roamed her. She could almost feel that, too.

He loomed over her. He was always so gentle and sweet she sometimes forgot what a big man he was, and how intimidating he could be. He could pick her up and toss her, or pin her down, or any of a number of things. But she trusted him with her life, and so the whole image just boiled down to her finding him really, really hot.

She traced her hands over the muscles of his chest, curling around his shoulders. “C'mere."

“I’m right here,” he replied, but he leaned back down to kiss her again. 

It was even better like this, pressed skin to skin, his warm weigh anchoring her to the bed. There was one problem. . . "You still have your skirt on.”

He lifted his head to look down at it. “Seemed polite.”

"It was very thoughtful. Lose it.” That got her a chuckle, and he obligingly untied it. There was nothing beneath it.

This was much better. She ran her hands down his back, over the curve of his ass. There was not an inch of fat on him, not that she could find. He was just perfect, and he was all hers. He bent his head again and kissed her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone. “Happy?” he murmured against her skin.

"Very happy," she told him. "You're gorgeous.”

“So are you.” He lifted one of her hands and kissed her wrist and the inside of her arm. “You are also brilliant.” He kissed the top of her breast. “And funny.”

"I am _hilarious_ ," she corrected, arching up into his mouth.

He pressed a trail of kisses on a path to the other breast. “You are the best person I know.” He said that with absolute sincerity.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "You are a good man.”

“Thank you.” He lifted his head. “Though. . . I may not be good _at_ this. It’s been kind of a long time.”

"You're doing just fine so far," she told him.

He laughed. “I haven’t gotten very far.”

"For Bast's sake, take the compliment and get back to the foreplay.”

“You’re bossy, too. I forgot to list that.” But then he closed his mouth in her nipple and it felt too good pay attention to anything else for a moment. Shuri sighed happily, stroking the back of his head and murmuring encouragement as he teased first one, then the other nipple to tight peaks.

When she got restless, she let her hands wander again, mapping his back and chest, learning all his curves and valleys. She could feel the contours of the scars on he’d chosen to keep, though he jerked a little when she touched the one on his back, and he let let out a little puff of laughter. Apparently it was ticklish.

"I'll have to remember that," she murmured.

He slid down her, out of her reach, and kissed her abdomen over her ribcage. “Don’t make me look for yours,” he said sternly. “Because I will.” For emphasis, he blew a raspberry on skin above her navel. She cackled and squirmed, but he dodged her kicking, pinning her down to kiss her hip.

He continued his journey downwards and she closed her eyes, anticipation tightening in her belly as he moved her legs apart. He stroked his hands all the way down the outside of them, and up the inside. Moving nearly off the bed, he kissed her ankle, her knee, her thigh. He was taking his own sweet time.

"I didn't know Jabari could be so patient," she teased him, breath ragged.

“Takes a long time to climb a mountain.”

Normally, she would make a joke about orgasms and peaks, but at the moment he finally pressed a kiss to her center, lapping at her sex with his tongue, and thought fled. She didn’t know what the hell he was talking about thinking he wasn’t any good at this. He seemed to know exactly the right spot, the right pressure, the right speed.

She relaxed, letting herself get lost in it. Her mind tended to run at full speed all the time. It was hard to relax, hard to sleep. The only times it really slowed were when she was deep in a project or when she was . . . like this. And even then, it took the right guy to really make it all shut down.

By the time Mandla had her arching and shaking, she couldn't have told you her name. It was so quiet, the only sound the roar of blood in her ears. When she finally got her eyes open he was watching her, gently stroking her leg. “That’s my girl,” he murmured.

Shuri blew out and breath and shivered with an aftershock. "If this is you rusty I can't wait to see you after some practice.”

“I know you,” he replied. “As well as I know anyone. Instinct did the rest.”

She smiled and stretched before wrapping her arms around him again and kissing him deeply. He braced over her, letting the kiss go on for a while. “But I bet it will be even better with more practice. I figure we’ll have lots.”

"Mmm. I certainly hope so. I'm insatiable.”

“You’re going to make sex science experiments for us, aren’t you?”

"You say that like it's a bad thing.”

He laughed, and he kissed her again, cradling her face in his hand to hold her close. She kissed him deeply, winding her legs around him to draw him closer to her, until she felt the brush of his cock against her folds. Reaching down, she shifted him a bit so he could slide inside. He groaned as he did so, going as slow as he could.

He was very big, which was both good and bad. Good because the friction was incredible. Bad because even as slow as he was moving, there was a definite twinge as he stretched her. She distracted herself by kissing him, getting lost in that.

When he finally bottomed out, he was very still, and lifted his head a centimeter or two. “You okay?”

She let out a breath. "Yes, I think so. But go slow a bit longer.”

“We can stop if you need to stop.” His voice sounded way more casual than she imagined he felt.

"I don't want to stop," she informed him, aiming for a similarly causal tone. "I just want us to take our time.”

He rested his forehead on hers, and she could feel the tension in his muscles. “Anything you need.” It wasn’t much more than a whisper.

She held his gaze and gave him a little kiss. "Move, Mandla. It's all right.”

He inhaled slowly, and then just as slowly slid out of her nearly all the way, and then back in. It was slicker and easier this time, and even more so the next. By the fourth or fifth the last of the discomfort had faded and there was nothing but friction and heat and pleasure.

She clutched at his back, hips lifting into his strokes, which were now coming a little faster and sinking deeper. "Good," she murmured, hoping to encourage more of that. "So good.”

“I have a better idea,” he said. Before she could reply, he reached under her to hold her and rolled them over, flipping onto his back.

Shuri squeaked in surprise, propping herself up to look down at him. He grinned at her and she grinned back, sitting up more. After a moment to get herself positioned correctly and her knees settled, she started to move, rocking on him.

“Yeah,” he said, and she could hear the need in his voice. “This was a good idea.”

She was tempted to ask if he meant their current position or the sex in general, but had better things to do at the moment. The change in position had ruined her focus, but now that she was in charge, pleasure was building up again, hot and heavy. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, letting her body do what it needed to reach her peak. His hands slid up her legs, and then she felt his thumb press against her clit.

That was good, that was exactly what she needed. Her movements got rapid and jerky as her climax crested and flooded her. She shuddered, nails digging into his chest, and she rode out wave after wave of it. He gave a couple of rough, hard thrusts, lifting her up as he followed her.

Clearly blissed out, he still had the wherewithal to catch her as she sunk onto his chest, wrapping her up safely in his arms. For a few moments she felt safe and content, as if all was right with the world.

He nuzzled his face against her hair. “Hey,” he whispered. “I love you.”

She sighed softly. "I love you back.”

He made a happy noise, half rumble and half hum. He rubbed her back and dragged a blanket around them. “My princess.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff and smut, but they're so adorable we can't resist.

They woke in the morning tangled together. There was a heartbeat where Mandla was surprised—not only were they tangled, but they were naked—before his brain woke all the way up and his memory of yesterday returned. He nudged Shuri and she made a grumbling noise.

"Whatever time it is, it's too early," she told him, voice muffled in his shoulder.

“That third round was your fault. I told you we’d be sorry in the morning.”

"I don't regret the third round, I regret the existence of mornings.”

Mandla laughed. “But there’s breakfast. How can you regret breakfast?”

She paused. "I can hold out till lunch.”

“You need less calories than me.” He turned onto his side to face her, and reached beneath the blankets to touch her warm skin. “It’s fine, I can entertain myself.”

Shuri hummed in pleasure and arched into his touch. "I'm sure you can.”

He ran his hand along her thigh. “You have energy for this but not food?”

"I can do this without getting out of bed.”

He considered for a moment, then said, “I can live with that,” before bending his head to kiss her.

When he snuck out a couple hours later to get them something to eat, he unfortunately ran into his brother, who gave him a shit-eating grin to beat all grins. Mandla was in too good a mood to be annoyed. “What? Do I have a hickey?"

"Scratches," he replied, gesturing to his shoulder.

He looked down at them. “Huh.”

"I'm impressed. The princess has claws.”

“Well. Yesterday was kind of an emotional day.” He felt faintly guilty using his grandmother’s funeral as a cover. 

M'Baku nodded and patted his back. "Enjoy your day off, brother. We all need them once in a while.”

That made him smile. “Thank you, brother.”

"Will we see you for dinner?”

He laughed. “Heck if I know.” He returned his own shit-eating grin. “We’re young.”

M'Baku laughed. "Yes, you are. Enjoy that, too.”

Mandla brought enough food for four people back to the room. It was so much that he had to find a cart.

Shuri was sitting on the bed, reading something on her beads when he came in. When she saw the cart she started to laugh. "I wore you out, did I?”

“Yes. You’re exhausting and I don’t know why I put up with you.” He grinned at her. “Well, maybe I do.”

"I can think of at least five recent reasons to put up with me.”

“My next goal is to get to the point where you can no longer count.”

She lifted her wrist. "My beads keep track.”

He stared at her. “What?”

"They keep track of my biometrics. Would you like to know how many calories we burned last night?”

“Is it more than this food?” He didn’t let her answer. “Wait, are my beads tracking that? Has it been maintaining a log of how often I. . .” He had no idea why he was embarrassed saying the word ‘masturbate’ to a woman who had had his cock in her mouth an hour and a half ago, but there it was.

Her laugh was pretty much a cackle. "No. You have to set them to do so. I use it to remind myself to eat and move when I get distracted in the lab.”

“And to get laid when it’s been a while?”

"I do not have a chime for that.”

He made her a plate of food—he didn’t need to ask, he could feed her in any restaurant in the world. “Did you, uh, I mean, have you. . .In the time I’ve been in California, I’ve never seen you with someone.” Though he wasn’t always there, and it’s possible she just kept things quiet.

"I dated a bit when I first got to California. It was nice to be around boys who didn't know my brother was a king. But no one since you move out." She shrugged. "It seemed rude.”

“Me either. The, uh, scar girl was the last.”

She reached out for the plate. "I actually had a non-vengeance related question about her.”

He eyed her a little warily, not sure what she could possibly want to know. And/or how she might use that for some sort of vengeance quest. “Yes?”

"Did she manage to get your pants off before she went running? Because if so, you might be misinterpreting her fears.”

He laughed, and felt his face heat at the same time. He tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling. “Hanuman.”

"That's what she said.”

“Shuri!” He loved her, but she had a real problem with her fondness for outdated American memes.

"I'm hilarious, remember?”

“You are.” He made himself a plate of his own, and came to sit on the end of the bed. “So we are going to go see your family?”

"Yes, as long as you're all right with it. I'd like to spend a few days there.”

“Of course. You’ve been wonderful putting up with mine.”

She smiled and leaned over, kissing his cheek. "Yours have been fine.”

“I know you are cold.”

"That is the one downside.”

“Lounging poolside with you in the nice warm lowlands sounds really nice to me.”

"Mmm." She kissed his mouth this time. "That does sound fun.”

“We really should eat. . .” he tried, but she already had her arms around him.

They didn't make it to dinner, but they did make breakfast the next morning, so they could get a little socializing in before heading down to the lowlands in the afternoon. Shuri messaged ahead to let them know they were coming and T'Challa and the kids met their shuttle.  
Kata was five, and shrieked, “Auntie Shuri!” and came at her at a full run. T’Challa put Tayo down to toddle behind her. They really were getting so big.

She caught her niece and swung her around before Tayo reached them and she scooped him up as well. "You're both so big!" she exclaimed. "I barely recognized you.”

“Nakia keeps feeding them,” her brother said.

"That's the problem." She turned. "This is Mandla. He's my boyfriend. You have to be nice to him so he doesn't get scared off.”

“I can’t tell if you’re talking to children or to me,” T’Challa said.

"It also applies" she informed him.

“You are very tall,” Kata said, looking up and Mandla.

He crouched down to her level. “How’s that?”

"Better," she declared. "Are you going to be my uncle?”

He glanced up at Shuri, then said, “I might. I have two nieces and two nephews of my own, but you can never have too many.”

She nodded thoughtfully, then stepped close to hug him. He put his arms around her and picked her up off the ground.

T'Challa shook his head. "Someday she will meet someone she can't wrap around her finger.”

“If you used to say that about Shuri,” Mandla replied, “I assure you that day has yet to come.”

She grinned and T'Challa shook his head. "Come, we'll see you to your room and let you get settled.”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Mandla said, and they all walked together inside.

"Of course. You are always welcome.”

“Our time with my people was rather. . . heavy. It will be nice to relax.”

"You have run of the palace," T'Challa told him. "If you can drag her out of her lab.”

Mandla grinned at him. “Ah, that I have many years experience doing.”

"He also knows where I'm ticklish," Shuri said, causing T'Challa to make a face.

“Don’t provoke him,” Mandla said with a grin. “I’ve seen him fight.”

"I'll protect you," she promised, as they reached the royal quarters. T'Challa herded the kids towards their rooms as Shuri took Mandla's arm and led him to her old room.

It was gorgeous in there. Back home, space was at a premium since it had to be carved from rock, or perilously attached to it, no one had more space than they needed. But Shuri’s room was enormous. It had the same brightly colored art work she preferred in her labs, along with a big bed piled with pillows and stuffed animals, a plush carpet, and several bookcases and shelves piled with books, figures and a variety of her early tinkerings. 

He sat on the bed and flopped onto his back. “I approve.”

She laughed and set her bag on the floor before crawling onto the bed next to him. "Good. The first man to sleep in the Princess's bed.”

He turned his head to look at her. “Really?”

"Well, this bed. I wasn't sneaking a lot of boys in under Baba and T'Challa's noses. Though even in California I didn't let a lot of people sleep over. I like my space.”

“You do take up a lot of the bed for such a small person.”

She poked him sharply in the ribs. "I'm very important and deserve all the space I want.”

He rolled onto his side, mostly so he could kiss her again. He couldn’t get enough of her. “I’ll give you that.”

"Besides, it doesn't matter how much space I take up, you just flop on top of me.”

“Well, it’s a fun place to be these days.”

She laughed and he kissed her again, tugging her close. "Wait'll you see me in a bathing suit," she murmured when he let her up for air.

“We should probably try that for the first time in this room,” he replied.

"Don't trust your self control?”

Her shirt had buttons, and he popped one of them. “It’s barely working now.”

"I've created a monster," she murmured, slipping her hand under his shirt.

Mandla took that as encouragement to open more buttons. “We’ve got five years of steam to blow off.”

She shrugged the top off, leaving her bare to the waist, and curled her hands behind his head to draw him down for a deep kiss. He let his hands wander over her skin before sitting up to pull his own shirt off. There was a stuffed dinosaur staring at him, but he was going to ignore that. Especially since she was now tracing he nails over his chest, running along the lines of muscle and bone. 

He flattened his palm on her stomach. “I feel like you are both very familiar, and completely new. The light I see you in is new.”

"I know what you mean. It's like we get to know each other all over again.”

He bent to kiss one of her breasts. “Only this time, naked."

"See? It's better.”

The dinosaur caught his eye again, and he sat up. “Okay, but I can’t handle the menagerie.”

She frowned and tipped her head back to look, then cracked up laughing. “Seriously?"

“They are looking at me.”

"Are you afraid they'll judge your performance?”

“You know, if I’d known, all those years ago, that I was signing up for a lifetime of mockery and sarcasm. . .”

"You'd have gotten me naked much quicker.”

He laughed. He really did adore her. “Yeah, probably.”

"I love you," she told him solemnly. "I'll toss the stuffed animals while you get naked.”

“This is going to do nothing for my feeling of having an audience, you know,” he said, but he stood up to take the rest of his clothes off, like she asked. And, as she'd promised, she got up and swept the stuffed animal menagerie off the bed and covered the with a blanket, before shimming out of her pants and climbing into bed. She peeled back the fluffy comforter, and lounged back against the nest of pillows. She looked like an offering someone had made for him.

He sat on the end of the bed, circling her ankle with his hand and tugging her a little lower, before sliding his hands up her legs. She happily let him move her where he wanted, except when he hit a ticklish spot and squirmed, giggling.

Back of her knees. He needed to remember that.

He pushed her legs further apart, until he could kneel between them. It was arousing as hell, just to look at her sprawled out like that, in broad daylight. And she was _his_. It was primitive and ridiculous, but he felt it in his bones.

She smiled a little crookedly. "You're looking rather possessive, Jabari.”

He spread his hand over her sex. “I am.”

That made her grin, fortunately. "Like what you see?”

“I used to dream about you,” he said, bending one of his fingers to stroke her. 

Shuddering, she asked, "Recently? Or when we were kids?”

“Both,” he replied, and it felt like a confession. But he supposed in this particular moment, while sliding his fingers inside her, that it was all right to admit he fantasized about her.

"Mmm." She arched, body fluttering around the intrusion. "How does the real me stack up?”

“Better.” He pressed her clit with his thumb. “My imagination didn’t do you justice.”

Her breath hitched and she closed her eyes, apparently incapable of responding. Her body rocked with his motions, growing slicker and hotter under his hand. He loved watching her, and could do this as long as she needed. He knew just what she needed, but kept it slow, just wanting to make her good and wet.

Eventually, she began to squirm, lifting up into his hand. “Mandla."

He grinned. He could enjoy this for just a bit. “Yes, my love?”

"I need. . .”

He was pleased she didn’t even seem to be able to finish that sentence. He loved that he could so thoroughly distract her that her immense mind seemed to turn off. “I know,” he told her.

"Then get down here.”

“I might suffocate in your nest of pillows.” Now he was just tormenting her. He slid his other hand over her skin while he was at it.

The noise she made was almost a growl and he could feel her squeeze around his fingers. "It'd be a good death.”

It probably would. Though he had other ideas. He pulled his hand away, causing her to make a noise of protest. Then he grabbed a couple of the pillows with one hand, and tugged one of her legs up to encourage her to turn over.

When she get his intent, she made an excited noise and rolled over, bracing herself on her knees so he could slide the pillows beneath her to hold her hips up. He nudged her legs a little further open and then slid inside her. He heard her groan and her body clenched as he bottomed out. They'd discovered in their first day of experimenting that this particular position worked well for both of them. He could get as deep as he liked and the angle seemed to ease the pressure for her while maintaining all the friction she needed.

She gave a little wiggle of her hips, encouraging him to start moving. He pulled nearly out and then back in, and she pushed back against him. She met him as he moved faster and they found their rhythm.

As it got faster and more intense, she started to make noise. Little gasps and moans. Mumbled curses and encouragement. He slid a hand around her hip, stroking lightly on her clit. Her whole body shuddered and she thrust back into him roughly as the first clenches on her climax started to squeeze him. It felt so good he didn’t last long, bracing his hand on the headboard as it rushed through him, swift and sharp.

He collapsed with her into the pile of pillows. “I approve of your pillows.”

She laughed breathlessly and reached back to pat his head. “Good."

“There’s a pile like this on your bed back in California, too, isn’t there?”

"It's even bigger.”

He pulled her close again. He’d be content to lay here all day. “I can’t wait to share it with you.”

Shuri twisted to kiss him before tucking herself against his chest. "Me, too.”


	13. Chapter 13

They stayed with her family three days. Mandla pretty consistently dragged her out of her lab. They lay by the pool, as promised. Wandered the marketplace. Ran her niece and nephew around the jungle. It was fun and relaxing and a welcome breather after a emotionally tense few days with his family.

Their last day, her mother came and found her in her lab. “He really is a nice young man.”

"He is. Has been since we were kids.”

“It is apparent you relationship is genuine. Isn’t it?”

"As of four. . . five? days ago, yes, yes it is." She looked over at her. "Is this a when's the wedding thing? I am not prepared for a when's the wedding thing.”

Mother blinked. “In my defense, I didn’t know about the timeline.”

"It's complicated." She probably shouldn't have assumed Nakia had spread the information around.

“A few days ago I was planning on talking to you about ending the charade.”

Shuri tried to imagine what her reaction to that conversation might have been before she and Mandla hashed it out. Other than the immediate, visceral distaste at discussing _feelings_ with her _mother_. The idea of breaking up with him was currently unthinkable. A week ago it probably would have been equally abhorrent. She missed him enough when he went on his adventures without her. She was willing to climb not insignificant mountains for him, after all.

"I don't think it's been a real charade for a while," she admitted, picking up one of the bracelets she was working on so her hands would have something to do. "You have to like someone if you're going to marry them, right? Make sure you still like them even when they're sick or grumpy or sleep deprived. So we just did all that first and save the se-things I'm not going to discuss with you, for later.”

“You always did like to do the hard things first, didn’t you?”

Shuri grinned. "Downhill is easier. Baba told me that when I was learning to walk.”

“So we are going to talk about a wedding at some point?”

"Yes. After we've had a chance to get back to California and figure out our new normal.”

“It will likely be enormously politically complicated to plan. So do allow extra time for that.”

"Elope to Vegas, got it.”

That got her a very stern look. “Shuri. This would be a very big deal. You can’t blow it off.”

She ducked her head. "Yes, Mother. Sorry, Mother.”

“I do not want you to marry him for politics. But if you’re going to marry him anyway, we might as well make the most of it.”

Of course. She stifled a sigh and nodded. "I promise to call before setting a date.”

“I hope you will be home more,” Mother said. “Now that you’ve sorted yourselves out. We miss you.”

"We plan to," Shuri promised. "Now that there's no awkward explanations to be had.”

“He makes you happy?”

"Very," she said, smiling. "He takes good care of me and lets me take care of him.”

“Sometimes that second one is the harder task.”

Shuri rolled her eyes. " _Tell_ me about it.”

Mother hugged her. “I am really, very happy for you. I was apprehensive when your brother and M’Baku cooked this up, but it seems to have worked out.”

"It has, but that doesn't mean your were wrong to be apprehensive." Her mother chuckled so she added, "The two of them shouldn't be allowed to plot too much.”

“You’ll probably be able to help with that.”

"I'll do my best." She kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry I've been away so much.”

“I know you were doing important work. I just missed you.”

"I missed you, too, Mama.”

There was a lot of hugging and crying on the day of their departure. Shuri was sad to go, but also really looked forward to having some genuine alone time with her new-old man.

Once they were cruising over the Atlantic and she could relax a bit, she turned to him. "So, what should we do about housing?”

“You mean, should we live together?”

"That's where I was going, yes.”

Mandla tilted his head. “We do already spend most of our time together.”

"And it will be much easier to pester you for constant sex if you're living in the same apartment as me.”

He grinned. “I don’t think you’ll have to pester me.”

"Just snap my fingers-" She demonstrated. "And you'll appear, ready to service me?”

“Absolutely. Always.”

"Awesome." She leaned over and kissed him. "So. Will you move in with me?”

“Yes. The minute we get home.”

And that was pretty much what happened. They got home and dropped all their luggage in her apartment. When they went across the hall to his they found a pile of condolence cards and flowers from the kids he mentored piled in front of the door. She could see him getting teary and hustled him and his armload of of cards and flowers inside.

"Do you have energy to move your stuff today?" she asked. "Or should we just fire up Netflix and cuddle in my pillow fort?”

“Am I a wimp if I tell you the second one sounds really appealing?”

"Not at all. I made it as tempting as possible.”

He tipped her face up and kissed her. “Let me just grab some clean clothes.”

"Pack a few days worth, then we can take our time moving other stuff.”

Mandla packed bag, a lot more efficiently than he’d packed to go to Wakanda. Funny that was only a week ago. So much had happened. She felt like an entirely different person than she had been.

Back at her place they ordered dinner, changed into comfortable clothes and set up an extremely comfortable nest on her bed to watch TV from. He stretched out and burrowed in them. “You’ve changed my mind about pillows.”

"You are now pro pillow?”

“I don’t even recognize myself,” he said, but then he looked at her, and his voice turned serious. “It’s been a hell of a week.”

"It has," she agreed. "We aren't the same people who left here.”

“But I think we’re who we’re supposed to be.”

"That's a very nice way to put it," she said with a smile.

“I guess I just. . . felt like something was missing, and now it’s not.”

He was incredibly romantic sometimes. It probably shouldn't surprise her, he was an excellent writer. Shuri wondered if she could talk him into writing her love letters. Just for fun. For now, she tucked herself into his side. "We do fit very nicely.”

“So, are we going to actually watch this TV, or do something else?”

"I think I'd like to actually watch something.”

He kissed her temple. “Then I will keep my hands to myself.”

"Mmm. For that I'll let you pick the first show.”

“You’re seriously signing up for an hour of British period dramas?”

"Yes, because I love you.”

He grinned and kissed her. She put up with _two_ hours of British period dramas.

Life carried on mostly as it had. They worked down in the center during the day and moved him into her apartment in the evenings. It took some negotiating, carving space for him in what had been her private sanctum for so long. But they talked it out and made it work, wedging his dresser into the corner of the bedroom and clearing out a couple of drawers in the bathroom. The kids seemed to have seen it coming long before they had and cooed over the romance of it all, to Mandla's embarrassment and Shuri's amusement.

One evening he told her he wanted to cook her dinner, and that she should stay at the lab and he’d send her a message when dinner was ready. It was a bit of an odd request, usually he was the one dragging her out of the lab. But maybe he just didn't want her underfoot in the kitchen. So she stayed down there after the kids had all cleared out, working on her panther suit.

Her beads chimed. _Dinner is served._

_Be up in two shakes._ She settled the last piece of vibranium into its casing and closed it up, then locked the whole thing in her safe before heading upstairs to their place. It was dim inside, candles all over the place. She could smell something delicious.

"You spoil me," she called out, slipping her shoes off before heading deeper into the apartment to find him.

Mandla came out of the kitchen carrying plates. “Sit, sit.”

"What did you make me?" she asked, slipping into her usual chair. "Starchy cheese goo?”

He laughed. “That is my specialty.”

"It's good that it's my favorite, then.”

He waited for them to get a little of the meal in them, before saying, “There is something I’ve been thinking about.”

She arched a brow as she chewed and prompted, "Go ahead," when he didn't say anything more.

“I would like to officially and formally accept our Arrangement.”

"I. . . thought we'd already done that." She gestured to the apartment. "With the living together and the sex and such.”

“That is not the same as telling the families they can start planning what will probably be the wedding of the century.”

"Yes, my mother mentioned giving them lots of lead time since it will be a thing." She stopped and stared. "Wait. Wedding?”

He stared back. “Are we having one of those cultural misunderstandings again?”

"No. I don't think so. Probably not." She tilted her head. "Are you proposing?”

“Technically the proposal, in the way westerners understand it, was already made by our families. I want to accept it.”

"Got it." Not particularly romantic, but accurate. "Yes. I also accept.”

He grinned at her. “I understand in the lowlands you also follow the tradition of gifting animals on the occasion of wedding or betrothal.”

"Oh, gods, do you have a goat hidden somewhere?”

“No,” he said, but then he got up and went into the bedroom. She waited, not sure how alarmed she should be, until he came back out carrying a small black kitten.

Shuri squeaked and stood, holding out her hands for it. Mandla passed it over and it mewed at her in the tiniest, angriest voice possible. "Oh _good_ ness.”

The kitten had a purple ribbon tied around its neck, and a ring dangled from it. She carefully untangled it and slipped it on her finger. "It's beautiful," she told him.

“I know you love American fads. And, in a strange way. . .our relationship was born in Wakanda but it was nurtured and grew here. It is where we found ourselves and each other. So I thought our engagement could use a touch of western tradition.”

"It's a good idea." She tucked the kitten into her shoulder and leaned in to kiss him. "I love you.”

“I love you. I can’t wait to be your husband.”

She grinned and the kitten squeaked again. "We should call my mother, but first, what should we name the baby?”

“I assumed you’d come up with some sort of pun.”

"Calling it Kitty'Challa might get confusing.”

He made a consternated noise. “Have you failed to notice how the current biggest obstacle to finally getting my book published is that I don’t have a title?”

She laughed and nudged him. "Maybe we'll live with him while and see if something comes to us.”

“It’s a her.”

"That narrows it down." She kissed the kitten's nose. "How about Princess?”

“My Princesses, plural. I like it.”

"You're such a lucky guy, two princesses to dote on.”

He grinned widely. “I am the luckiest man on this entire planet.”

 

**Epilogue**

_Ten Years Later_

Getting children out of the door was like herding cats.

The moment he thought that, Mandla decided it wasn’t true. They had cats. They actually had more cats than they had children, and they were easier to corral.

“I can’t find my shoes!”

“Where my binky?”

“Can I go get some juice?”

“NEED binky!”

Mandla waded through them, acquiring a growth on his leg named Inira, who decided chewing on a handful of the fur wrapping his calves was a good enough substitute for the binky she had been upset about. 

He found Bayode some not-exactly-matching shoes, and told T’Chaka that if he was thirsty he could eat some snow. Inira started yelling about the binky again. The only one of his children not current whining was leaning against the front door, arms crossed, glaring at them silently with all the disdain a pre-teen could muster. 

Ifede was no him and all Shuri.

“Come on, come on, everyone outside,” he said. “We’re going to miss Mama’s train if you don’t hurry up.” He hefted Inira onto his hip and stuck his index finger into her mouth, as she found it an acceptable binky replacement sometimes. 

Regular transit connected Gorilla City with the lowlands these days, allowing people to commute back and forth, which his wife did during the half of the year they lived up on the mountain. They compromised, so she didn’t have to live in the cold all the time, but the kids spent enough time at high altitude to grow the cardiovascular capacity to live in Jabari Land full time if they wanted to one day. Sometimes when Shuri had a big project she’d stay in the palace for a few days. When she did, Mandla always took the little ones to meet the train.

Though, really, right now abandoning them on the side of the mountain sounded appealing. He and Shuri could go on their upcoming vacation alone. It would be so quiet.

They trudged down the path to the train depot, T'Chaka and Bayode darting ahead of him, Inira in his arms and Ifede trudging behind him as if on her way to an execution. She was probably old enough to leave home for a couple minutes while the rest of them went, but that felt oddly like letting the hormones win.

They all waited reasonably patiently, for their ages anyway. Lots of people nodded and waved to them all, but gave them their space. Royalty had its perks.

The train woodshed into the station right on time and the kids all perked up as people began to disembark. Shuri hopped off with the rest of the pack, grinning when she saw them all. "There's my babies," she said, heading their way, arms open.

The boys ran, and then Ifede gave up on her cool and followed them. Mandla was a few steps behind, with Inira wriggling and shrieking, “Mama! Mama!”

Shuri scooped Bayode up and kissed his cheeks, propping him on her hip to free up an arm to hug the other two. "Hello, hello. I missed you too."

When he reached her, Inira launched herself at Shuri, wrapping herself around her back like a backpack.

“I missed you more than I have ever missed anything in my life,” Mandla said seriously.

She grinned at him, leaning over the kids to kiss him. "No fifth kid, huh?”

“They are hooligans when you’re gone. I can’t believe we’re taking them up an even bigger mountain.”

"That was entirely your idea.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “Come on, let’s get home. Dinner is simmering.”

"Thank Bast, I'm _starving_." She shifted the kids and together they got the herd moving, heading back up the mountain.

Mandla listened to them all chatter as they walked, telling Shuri about their week. Inira started whining about her binky again, which of course Shuri located 30 seconds after reaching the house.

"Magic Mama powers," she commented, joining him in the kitchen once the kids were all sorted out.

He pulled her into his arms. “I really did miss you.”

"Mmm, I missed you too." She nuzzled his shoulder. "But I am now officially on vacation.”

“I am only sort of on vacation,” he replied. “I have to take notes.” They were taking the children up Mt. Kilimanjaro, and he was writing a book about their adventure.

"I mean, theoretically, we're never on vacation with the kids in tow. But it'll be a _different_ kind of chaos and that will be fun.”

He took the lid off the pot to a cloud of steam, and picked up a spoon to taste test. “We’ll have plenty of help.” He and Shuri liked climbing things. They did not as much like the extremely rough camping that went with a big mountain. So if they could, they employed people to carry lots of gear. They camped like the royalty they were. Kids had only enhanced that.

She looped her arms around his waist and leaned on his back. "Think we'll get any privacy?”

“If we are very, very quiet.”

"I'm not very good at that," she murmured into his shoulder.

He chuckled. “That you are not.” He turned with a spoonful of the sauce and held it out for her to taste. “Surely there must be some way to fix that with science.”

"I think that's called a gag." She tasted the sauce and hummed thoughtfully. "Dash more salt?”

“I’m not opposed, and I agree,” he said, turning to find the salt.

"I suppose after ten years it _is_ time to start experimenting.”

Mandla sprinkled salt in the sauce. “We wouldn’t want the flame to die. Etc.”

"Should I go buy some books about keeping my man's interest?”

He turned just so he could kiss her. “Your man is very interested. You need a book on how to have sex in a tent without scarring your nine year old for life.”

"Ifede could use a little scarring," she said, kissing him again. Yep, the magic was definitely still there.

“Mmm, dinner is about ready,” he said, not sounding like he had any actual inclination to move.

"It's stew. You can let it simmer a bit longer.”

“Are you suggesting we make out in the kitchen instead?”

"It crossed my mind." She rubbed her nose against his. "I've been gone almost a week.”

Mandla kissed her again. “If we feed them and get them to bed, we can do more, you know.”

"Hmm, immediate gratification versus long term happiness. My greatest nemesis.”

“Princess, some things never change.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after.


End file.
